The Shield Unscripted
by Nyx6
Summary: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins form the secret police taskforce known as The Shield working to take down crime in Suplex City under the watchful eye of Commissioner McMahon. This is a collection of one-shot stories and missions. Expect brotherhood, mortal peril and lots of ball busting ahead. Companion piece to The Shield Reunited, Undivided and Blindsided.
1. Never Smile At A Crocodile

**Okay, so here we are in this series of requests and one-shots which I'm going to be updating once a week. Check back in every Monday to see what's happening and in the meantime I'll be writing and editing things up!**

 **This first one is a suggestion from the lovely Skovko who wanted me to write about the crocodile farm case that I briefly mentioned in** _ **The Shield Reunited**_ **. Not only that but I've made it the guys first ever mission together so we're stepping into the time tunnel for this!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted:** **Never Smile At A Crocodile**

It was actually kind of a funny story really. Well, apart from the cluster fuck _life or death_ bit.

A couple months earlier he'd been minding his own business – sitting at his desk, pretending to write reports up but actually making a kick ass paper plane – then suddenly there he was, his wrists shackled to a chain link which some bright spark had fastened with _concrete_ to the ground.

Not funny _ha ha_ perhaps, but still pretty humorous.

When had his life gone so far to hell?

A big paw reached out and tousled his hair roughly and in response Dean jerked his head back and snapped, his white teeth clicking together in warning like a cornered wild animal or a really rabid dog.

The owner of the hand – more beard than human – chuckled in delight and rocked back onto his heels. The man was hunkered down beside Dean at eye level but just far back enough to be well out of range. He was a broad guy – fat if Dean was being vicious – but not in a cheery sort of _ho ho ho_ way. _This_ dude was god damn criminally _certifiable_.

A dangerous, self-proclaimed godlike cult leader.

Oh yeah, with his very own crocodile farm.

Or alligators or whatever the hell the fucking things were, maybe a mixture, Dean wasn't too sure. All he knew was that he was shackled on his knees in front of them and in the very real position of becoming their lunch. In fact he could've sworn there was a big ass one eyeing him hungrily and putting an actual _napkin_ on.

The hillbilly deity chuckled broadly, sensing his shudder,

"Beautiful ain't they?"

"Not the word I'd use, I prefer women. But different strokes for different folks 'an all that I guess."

His defiant little sentence was ever so slightly lessened by the fact he'd taken a beating or two, Bray Wyatt – said _deity_ – sending in his lackeys to work their captive over once or twice. As a result, Dean's left cheek was slightly puffy and his lip had been nicely split on the right. It made his words a bit more slurry than he'd wanted them but he figured he was lucky that he could still even _talk_. If Bray's neolithic man mountain of an enforcer – Braun Strowman – had been given his way, then Dean would already have been a corpse.

"I like you boy," Wyatt grunted back at him, equal parts grudging and eerily amused, "You got fight. You got some moxie. Same we have to do what we're gonna do."

"Yeah," Dean deadpanned, "Can tell you're _real_ cut up about it."

Bray grinned again,

"It's the way of the world."

Out in the grubby waters of the croc pond, one of the animals thrashed a restless tail, slamming it forcefully into another one until several of them were jostling in a splashing, bubbling froth. Droplets of the water spattered down onto the shoreline where Luke and Erick – more loyal lackeys – were standing with sticks to fend the beasts off. When they stepped back, the reptiles would be unleashed again and unfortunately for Dean, they would be unleashed on _him_.

How the fuck had it managed to come down to this?

Dean sucked a breath in and tried to think back.

Four months earlier he had been virtually non-existent. Just a regular beat cop doing his job. A no good kid from the _very_ wrong side of the city who had defied all the obstacles and successfully joined the force.

 _Officer Ambrose_.

He still got chills just hearing it. That in itself had been all he'd ever wanted but it had meant losing the few friends he'd had along the way. No one from his old neighbourhood had wanted to associate and Dean _got_ it, he did.

The choice had been all his.

Which was why he hadn't been expecting much beyond that. He had never been a _climb to the top_ kinda guy. For the most part he had figured on just flying beneath the radar and being good at what he did within the vague parameters of the law. _Unorthodox_ was the style he favored in life mostly, which ran into his police work.

Which was – _apparently_ – why he'd got the call.

" _Ambrose_?"

He'd known the Commissioner's voice instinctively, authoritative, sharp and just about shrill enough that it could serve as a siren if enemy bombs fell. He'd sat up straight at his desk on hearing it, his paper plane losing its tightly held folds,

" _Uh, Commissioner – ma'am – y'know, boss lady_."

It hadn't exactly been the most coherent start.

" _I need to see you over in my office. You know the way_?"

" _Uh yeah – like, now_?"

" _Now Mr. Ambrose_."

Then the phone had clicked down again and Dean had sat in a stunted half-silence.

" _Shit_."

He'd scrambled from his desk and lurched around several other officers, who had frowned but otherwise skittered out of his path. His wide blue eyes and sense of wild confusion successfully managing to clear the cop-strewn way. It had taken him a total of maybe seven minutes – or possibly less – to travel the few short streets, dodging traffic and bodies while deliberating what the hell the Commissioner could want and what in the world she could want from _him_. Naturally he assumed he had made an error somewhere – that he had misstepped and managed to do something wrong – which was why he was both relieved and bewildered to see that he wasn't the only one ominously summoned up.

Because when he had bounded panting into the office, it was to see that Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns were there as well.

Huh?

" _Ah, good, Ambrose_ ," Stephanie had nodded mildly, " _Glad you could join us. Take a seat_."

" _Uh, I'd rather stand, you know, if that's okay or whatever_?"

Stephanie had shrugged,

" _Whichever you'd prefer_."

Seth and Roman had glanced across briefly but their faces were both as uncertain as his. They all knew each other – they'd been at the academy – but they weren't exactly friends and they didn't work the same beats.

None of them had known why the fuck they were there.

It had certainly been interesting to see them however, especially Seth Rollins who'd been their class' _golden boy_. He had literally excelled at any training placed in front of them and had passed the course like a champion. Roman too. Reigns hadn't had Seth's _continentally_ sized ego – or at least not as loudly – but he'd been good as well. A tall, self-assured, understated powerhouse who simply _belonged_ there.

They were the opposites of Dean.

But Dean – as it had turned out – possessed something which they didn't, that Stephanie had summed up neatly,

" _Street smarts_."

The premise had been simple if not a little _out there_ , she wanted them to team up and be her best men. A semi-secret taskforce that could operate without her and – if necessary – without the law. Seth and Roman had been natural choices but they had _also_ needed a scruffy stray dog, someone who could fit in with the people they were after and not stick out.

Apparently, that had been him.

So now there he was, on their very first mission, trying to take down a growing and deadly cult. Out on the swampy fringes of the City, staked to the ground at a _crocodile joint_.

Suffice to say, things had taken a turn and not for the better.

"Wyatt, listen to me – ,"

"No little man," Bray shook his head at him, once again brushing thick fingers through Dean's curls.

 _Little Man_?

Dean snorted. He'd give him _little_. You know, just as soon as he got free of the damn cuffs,

"You can't fuckin' _do_ this – ,"

"Who says I can't? _Hmm_ boy? You betrayed us. There are no second chances out here. Those who fail _The Family_ get fed to my creatures. That's the way it has to be."

Down on his knees, his hands shackled in front of him, Dean again attempted to wiggle himself free, looking for give or any sort of weakness that might give him traction or propulsion.

There were none.

If he was honest then he was still ever so _slightly_ sketchy on just how and why the whole thing had gone wrong. Although in essence it all boiled down to one person and that person was god damn _Sister Abigail_.

That wasn't her real name – her real name was Courtney – the former was just a cult name everyone got. It was a thing Bray did to try and take ownership. He gave them new identities. Dean was _Brother Ben_.

It was actually Sister Abigail – sorry, _Courtney_ – who'd called them, wanting someone to take the cult down. She had stories and accounts of being sexually abused there, of witnessing criminality and murder. The whole thing. Evidently she had grown tired of Bray's wackiness and the sheer unpredictability of her life. The only way – _she said_ – she could get any peace from it, would be to make sure Bray Wyatt was either locked up or dead.

That had been their plan.

She had got him in there.

But somewhere along the way, the worm had turned. Bray had said something, or promised her sweet nothings and Abigail had decided she kinda _liked_ it where she was. Dean guessed he couldn't blame her being under his finger. Bray was disarming. She was powerless to help. What she _hadn't_ needed to do however, _at all_ , was share around the fact that he was a cop. He could've just slunk out and left through the backdoor – but _no_ – she'd had to tell them the truth.

 _Fucking Abigail._

Dean tugged again, this time even harder but the chain links merely rattled and didn't remotely budge. Bray grinned back at him, wetting his lips eerily like he was actually hungered by it. Or turned on. Dean suppressed another little shudder and then shifted his position to kick out his leg. It missed the cult leader but still caught him unsuspecting and the big bulky frame very _very_ briefly flinched.

"Moxie, so much moxie."

"You're makin' a mistake Bray," Dean choked out as a crocodile swum by them, dangerously near. Luke slapped the surface of the water with his paddle and it ducked down again but it was by no means gone for good.

"Oh really? Tell me. Why would that be?"

"Because I'm a cop, you gotta be fuckin' _stupid_ to kill me. All that _one for all_ , _protect their own_ bullshit? Not just hot air. Trust me. We really think like that. You feed me to your pets and they'll be on you in a heartbeat. They'll _never_ let up."

"That so?"

" _Oh_ yeah. So if you kill me, you're signin' your own death warrant. Be smart, here? Think about it Bray. You can still let me out."

For a minute the bearded cult leader merely stood and blinked at him, almost like he was giving the idea some real thought. Stupidly Dean's heart began to lift up in creeping hopefulness but then Wyatt barked with laughter and threw back his head.

Dean slumped down a little.

What an _asshole._

The guy was enjoying it – getting his rocks off.

"No Moxie, no boy, that isn't going to happen. Because after my babies eat you, they won't even know you were here. That's what they do – the crocs – they eat everything and what they don't want they bury deep in the mud. In about ten minutes you'll be nothing but _stomach juice_ and me and my family will just smile and carry on."

Dean's whole body shuddered, he couldn't fucking help it,

"For Christ sakes Bray – ,"

"Too late boy, it's feeding time."

Stepping back away from his prisoner, the Wyatt man turned and threw his arms wide, standing, head tipped backwards like a wild religious martyr and drinking in the sunshine,

"Bray – ,"

" _Let 'em loose_."

His words were issued as a bellow of elation and in response to them the watching cult members cheered and whooped. In turn both Erick and Luke stumbled backwards, dropping the paddles they'd been brandishing like swords. The two of them seemed mightily keen to get out of there but oddly, Bray stayed in place, chuckling on the sand. As the first of the crocodiles lumbered from the water, he actually giggled like a child,

" _There_ you are. Come on babies, it's time to fill your bellies. You'll like this one. He'll put up a fight."

If Dean had thought that the first croc was monstrous – with its haphazard limbs, narrowed eyes and dripping scales – then the second that blundered ungainly onto dry land nearly fucking killed him just _looking_ at the thing. It was huge, like a dinosaur, a prehistoric throwback and as it stamped in towards him he could feel the ground shake.

Or maybe not.

Maybe that was _him_ shaking.

But either way, the thing was still immense. On seeing it, Bray let out a wild chuckle but despite all the noise, the beasts seemed to ignore him, probably used to his crazy ass bluster or else knowing the chained down man was a much safer bet.

"That's it children, you go and you get him."

The first two plodded closer and Dean swallowed.

 _Oh shit._

His heart was in his throat, his palms were wet and sticky and his whole body buzzed with the weight of cold dread.

That was it, he was going to be eaten.

By a pack of hungry reptiles.

What a way to go.

The blood was rushing so hard around his system that he barely even _heard_ the gunshots go off, only vaguely registering the shifting situation as the ground sprayed up in front of him and the crocodiles stopped.

 _Bang, bang, bang._

The sound hit him afterwards and as his ears began to clear again, he started to hear the screaming as well. Somewhere up behind him – on dry land behind the fencing – the members of the cult were fighting to disperse. Something or someone had them well and truly rattled and Dean guessed that _someone_ was whoever had fired the shots.

He didn't really need to think on who that might be either.

He already knew.

It was Roman and Seth.

How he knew was something of a mystery, since the three of them were strangers for the most part. Sure they'd worked the case for getting close to two months now, but that was business. They hadn't been making friends. Or _had_ they? How else would he have known they were there to get him? How else could he explain the breath that billowed from his chest?

His teammates were there – were on the war path – to save him and that brought a warmth which he couldn't quite express.

In front of him, the crocodiles were dickering uncertainly, having backed up a few steps and then stopped. The noise and the force of the bullets had clearly spooked them and so they stood, tails lashing as they swayed back and forth.

"Go," Bray yelled at them, waving his arms around but seemingly staying put, unlike his wider cult, "Get him, eat him, tear him apart boys."

Dean shivered again.

 _Don't move, don't move._

Behind him there seemed to be a scene of pandemonium, with cult members running and pushing and calling out. In the background too, Dean could hear incoming sirens and it was like they understood that their weird game was up. Somehow their _all-gone-wrong_ shitstorm of a mission had actually managed to glean some results and although he was still on his knees in the croc pit, the thought they'd brought the group down very briefly perked him up.

"Dean?"

He twisted, Seth was calling out to him and as he squinted through the chain link, sure enough, there he was, the streak of blonde hair showing clearly behind the meshing and joined by more dark strands as Roman moved into view.

"Dean? You alright?"

"Not really," he called back, biting out the answer but stifling the _duh_.

"Hold on, okay?" Seth barked, "We'll get you outta there."

More crocs slid from the water,

"Yeah? Because you might wanna _kinda_ speed that up."

With Dean's attentions still mostly on the water, he was only half watching as the pair opened the door up. Swinging open the well-used, rusty hinges that separated dry land from the fence-encircled pen. In actual fact it was more of an enclosure, with dry looking scrubland and the murky looking pool. Dean kind of guessed that it was heaven for a reptile, but when you were a cop it seemed a lot more like hell.

"We're coming babe," Roman called deeply and the undercover operative blinked a little.

Huh?

 _Babe?_

In turning his head to frown in confusion, he suddenly caught sight of two figures ducked down low, hunkering in the overgrown roots of shrub bush and lying in wait,

"Hey guys, look out – ,"

At the exact same moment that Dean issued the warning, Luke and Erick burst out into the light, each of them zeroing in on a teammate and all _four_ of them going down in separate flailing balls of limbs.

 _Crap._

It was certainly one hell of a rescue they were enacting, Dean thought bitterly as he tugged at his chains. With the hail of bullets seemingly behind them, the crocs were getting bolder again, tentatively shifting their clawed toes across the dry ground and locking eyes with him.

"Uh, guys?"

Not good.

A pair of feet stamped in closely behind him, but it wasn't Seth or Roman who were still locked in their fights. Dean could _hear_ the fists flailing in the background – could hear the skin-on-knuckle driven painful moans and grunts – but what he _didn't_ hear was which of them were winning and as he turned around to look, Bray roughly grabbed his head.

"No Moxie boy, you gotta look forward, you gotta face up to the means of your death."

" _Fuck you_ – ," Dean spat, as the palms crushed his cheeks in, yanking round his neck until he was staring into the swamp. It seemed as though crocodiles were surfacing _all over_.

How many reptiles did the fucker even _have_?

Bray chuckled broadly as if reading his panic and then leaned in so close that Dean was scratched with beard growth. It was coarse, like wire wool and the feeling made him shudder, in fact, being touched by the guy in general made him flinch. Bray was just too weird for human contact. Like a child with no boundaries or awareness of social norms. But it wasn't just cluelessness, he _revelled_ in his oddity. Essentially he just liked making folk freak.

That and feeding them alive to his reptiles.

Bray Wyatt was a very, _very_ wildly fucked up man.

"Come on my children, make him pay, show him what happens when people take _my_ family on."

It was debatable whether he even _knew_ what was happening as behind him his followers ran for the hills. Either he had fallen into a pre-murderous trance state or else he was directing his frustrations down on Dean.

Still, it seemed strange.

His empire was in ruins and there he was with one single cop? Dean jerked his head back, prying it from the thick palms and trying again for reason,

"It's over man, we won, don't make this harder on yourself than y' need to."

Bray chuckled eerily,

"I'll enjoy watching them eat you."

As the shoreline began to fill with hungry reptiles – putting aside their wariness and clambering across the ground – Dean's last attempts at diplomacy failed him and he began to struggle wildly,

" _Roman_? _Seth_?"

It wasn't a good feeling to be yelling out desperately – to be honest it kind of hurt his _devil may care_ feel – but at the same time he was in no small amount of danger and things were getting bleaker.

He _needed_ their help.

"That's it now," Bray growled against him, the foul-smelling breath wafting over Dean's cheek, "Call for your friends so they can watch my babies shred you. They need to see. I _want_ them to see."

The whole thing seemed hopeless – he wasn't getting out of this – but then suddenly there was a jolt as something hard hit Bray's back.

" _Oof_ – ,"

In response to the assault, the cult leader staggered forward, tripping clean over the chains to Dean's wrists. When the captive looked up, it was to see Wyatt half-sprawled and face down in the dirt with Roman sitting on his back.

With a light sheen of sweat and his hair swinging wildly, the Big Dog looked kind of like some mythical god, his tribal tattoo glinting proudly in the pale light and his face curled up in a fury the younger man had never seen.

Despite the surprise, Bray Wyatt recovered artfully, flipping onto his back and almost _bucking_ Roman off. Luckily the policeman launched onto his feet again but it didn't take long for the cult leader to bring him down. In the time it took to blink, they were rolling across the shoreline, swinging fists and getting dangerously close to plunging in.

All the while they scrapped, the crocs drew in closer and as one padded towards him, Dean kicked out a foot. It threw a wave of dirt across the reptile's eyeballs but the damn thing merely stopped and easily blinked it off. Undaunted it continued to waddle towards his boot heels and Dean let out a noise of alarm and scrabbled back.

 _Clink._

The rattle of the cuffs against the ground loop was startling as Dean reached the limits of how far he could go. His arms were stretched out at an angle in front of him and his head was hanging down almost brushing the dirt. Was it better or worse for them to start with his cranium or would it actually be preferable to sacrifice his legs?

Fortunately however, the question had no answer and nor did it need one as another shot rang out, burying into the ground before the creature and ricocheting up to glance clean off its head.

"Shit – ,"

In response the crocodile reared its great jaw up, shaking its skull as the agony seeped in. Blood spattered quickly in a grim arc around it and its thrashing promptly drew other reptiles in. For a very brief moment the animals seemed distracted which was the point that another pair of desperate feet ran in,

"Dean?" It was Seth, his eyes wide in astonishment as he dropped to his knees beside him and put down his gun, "What the hell is going on in this place?"

"They're gonna fuckin' eat me. What d'ya think?"

Despite his tones though, Dean's heart lifted, feeling semi-buoyant now that someone else was there. Not that he would exactly _admit_ it but the hand on his shoulder felt comforting and safe.

"What happened to Luke and Erick?"

Seth frowned at him,

"Who the hell are they?"

"The guys that just took you down."

"Oh," Seth snorted, throwing a thumb across his shoulders and grinning a little, "They're sleeping things off. Never brawl with two cops on a mission. They learnt that the hard way."

Dean smirked back.

 _Well okay._

Reaching down Seth tested the chain links, frantically attempting to find any give. The growl he sent up wasn't reassuring and Dean confirmed his fears,

"Yeah, Bray's got the key."

In silence both men glanced across to the tussling but with the dust billowing around them, it was pretty hard to see. There was no way of knowing which brawler was winning, but having seen Roman at work on the wrestling mats back at the academy, Dean was pegging his desperate hopes on him.

"Of course he has," Seth sighed back wearily, before rising to his feet, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Dean rolled his eyes and was about to throw a barb at him – _I'm chained to the ground moron_ – but it never left his mouth. Suddenly something wooden swung in from behind them and clubbed Seth on the head, half knocking him out.

" _Hey_ – ," Dean barked, twisting in his shackles toward the angry figure holding the croc paddle aloft, "Oh you have got to be _kiddin'_ me with this shit."

The figure was a woman.

It was _fucking Abigail_.

With Seth on the ground grumbling mildly in confusion, the brain-washed cult member raised the wooden oar again, clearly intending to break Seth's god damn skull with it, which Dean couldn't let happen.

He kicked his leg out.

It caught the woman on the shin beneath the kneecap and she stumbled off balance and crumbled down towards the floor. The paddle crashed with her but she was still holding tight to it and the second she got her balance she could strike with it again. Not only that but she was out of Dean's range now, so he did the one thing left to him.

He shouted and yelled,

" _Seth_. Get up – for fuck sakes get _up_ man. She's gonna try again. God damn it. Seth _get up."_

The next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion as his younger teammate lifted his head off the ground. It was clear that he was concussed and bewildered and the fog cloud in his eyes made Dean's fingers twitch.

Huh, that was new.

He was feeling _protective_ and not just on principle but in a hot instinctive rage. The thought of her hurting Seth was practically _killing_ him and it struck Dean like a thunderbolt with just how strong that feeling was.

"He has to die – ," Abigail was murmuring, almost catatonic, "You all have to die."

" _Hey_ ," Dean barked as she slowly staggered upright, the oar swinging wildly, "Hey, leave him alone."

As the paddle hammered down, Dean almost squeezed his eyes shut. Almost but not entirely, which meant he just saw Seth's hand. It flashed out quickly right before the impact and caught the wooden handle before it buried in his head.

 _Christ._

In a sudden burst of consciousness, Seth was up and moving, grappling with Abigail as they fought for control. Seth was stronger – he should have been with all the CrossFit – but the woman was insane so it was a sort of _close-run_ thing.

"Let go," Seth growled, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You all have to die."

Well, that was that then.

With a roar of aggression, Seth wrenched the paddle from her and swung it around to crack across the girl's head. It caught her on the crown and in a second she stopped moving, her body going still and then folding to the ground.

" _Fuck_ ," Seth puffed, quietly pressing against her neck line and then waiting for a beat, "It's okay, she's just knocked out."

"Uh, Seth?"

The crocodiles were once again massing and turning round briefly the policeman jumped,

"Oh crap."

"Kinda freaky, right?"

Somewhere to their side in a ball of bayou river dirt, Roman and Bray were still busy trading blows and Seth blew a breath out and pinched his eyes quickly,

"Dean, you just – ,"

"Stay here. _I know_."

To emphasis his point he rattled the chain links, but Seth didn't seem in any fit state to mind. His brow was drawn in tightly like he was fending off a headache and Dean felt his chest hitch.

The guy was _not_ alright.

He resolved to make him go and see a doctor when or _if_ they got out of this alive, although before he could voice his concerns on the matter, the younger man was up and away across the bank, leaving Dean with a gun and an unconscious women, not to mention a horde of reptiles still trying to creep in close.

As in really, _really_ close in some cases and so shifting his position, Dean kicked the gun towards himself, using his boots to scrape it back across the ground and then grunting as he twisted his cuffs as far as they could go. It hurt – a _lot_ – but he just about managed it and picked up the firearm with an audible grunt.

Now things were even, or, _more_ even anyway.

He checked the gun's chamber.

There were just four rounds left.

Not enough to shoot all the ugly fuckers, but hopefully enough to keep them back a little more and figuring the blood of their brethren was distracting, he wrenched his wrists round, sucked a breath in and took aim.

 _Fuck_ it felt good to have something to do again, rather than just sit there and wait for a grizzly death.

The first bullet he fired off missed the mark dramatically but then again he _was_ on his knees and beaten up. He'd been aiming for the big one but it whizzed across it earlobes. Wait, did crocodiles even _have_ ears? Fortunately the loud cracking seemed to disarm them and the writhing mass of bodies briefly ground to a halt.

Well, the ones in _front_ of him stopped moving but the ones from the side kept on plodding in, with one in particular zoning straight in on Abigail who was lying in an untidy heap on the sand.

"Damn it," Dean growled, twisting to face her and loosing off a bullet from the stock he barely had. This one at least thudded into its target, embedding with such accuracy that the reptile fell down dead. Even so, Dean was down to only two bullets and the prospect of dinner was drawing more teeth in. Where the hell had his fucking teammates gone?

" _Seth_ ," Dean bellowed, unable to hear their voices over the sirens and the screaming and the sound of his own heart, "Seth?"

As another crocodile climbed across the dead one and made towards Abigail, Dean fired off the penultimate round.

 _Shit_.

He was down to one measly unhelpful little bullet but there were easily _twenty_ crocs coming in fast. They had eyes on their lunch and the female accompaniment who Dean assumed they saw as some kind of dessert. There was no way he could hold them back for much longer.

He needed his teammates and he needed them fast.

Turning as far as the cuffs would allow him, Dean tried to look in the direction Seth had gone. There was a swirling mist of dry mud billowing on the bank sides and as Dean squinted towards it, he could make his colleagues out.

Roman was lying on the ground looking winded, with Bray stood over him and yelling out loud. He had one fist raised in the air which he was swinging, clearly intending to hammer it down. Seth was on his back like a bleach-streaked spider monkey but although he was trying he wasn't having much effect.

Dean's heart lurched.

The pair were in trouble, especially Roman who looked almost out of it. As Wyatt flipped Seth off and put him down heavily, Dean bit back a groan but couldn't disguise the curse.

" _Shit_."

Wrenching his wrists round, he angled the revolver, wincing against the pain but determined to help out. Bray was once again standing over Roman and the fucker was laughing.

Dean growled.

Not for long.

Drawing a breath in and centring his emotions, the policeman took aim and then fired the shot, holding his breath as the bullet drew a straight line, zinging through the dust cloud and into Bray's chest.

For a second, nothing much really seemed to happen and then very slowly the cult leader folded back, a wide-eyed and confused looking expression on his features and a smirk still on his lips.

How was _that_ for a good shot?

Bray Wyatt was dead but the crocs were still moving and Dean was out of ammo _and_ potential options.

 _Crap._

He couldn't die by being eaten alive by fucking _crocodiles_ because sure it sounded cool but he would always be a joke. He would end up as the strange additional item in the papers or a gruesome folk story people told to their kids.

" _Seth_ – ,"

"Calm down man, alright?"

As a pair of hands thumped down on his shoulders, Dean jolted up about a mile in the air.

" _Fuck_."

"It's just me."

Dean exhaled,

"Where – where's Roman?"

More footsteps plodded over and the Big Dog hunkered down, panting heavily,

"Right here."

"Got him good right?"

Roman grinned artfully, nodding a little,

"That was damn good shooting babe."

There it was again, that whole weird _babe_ deal, although before he could question it Seth skittered back,

"Shit."

Several of the crocodiles had slunk in even closer and one was practically licking Dean's boot. Reaching across, Roman snatched up the paddle and cracked it in the centre of its scaly head,

" _Move_."

He was talking to Seth who was fumbling the cuff keys as Dean scrabbled backwards to stay away from the teeth. Seth's hands were shaking and he was swearing like a docker which wasn't helping things,

"Hey," Dean barked at him, "Relax."

For a second or two the younger man just blinked at him, like he couldn't begin to fathom the command but as the blue eyes zeroed in on him, Seth drew in a short breath and nodded in agreement.

 _Okay, be calm_.

Glancing up Dean watched Roman wield the boat oar, doing a good job of keeping the beasts at bay. It helped that they seemed know what the thing was used for and so the more Roman swung it, the more they backed up. Still, with each second more bodies joined the scale pile and so as fast as Roman walloped, the crocs would lumber up.

"Seth – ," Roman started, sounding a little wary as the incoming tidal wave of reptiles took its toll,

"Hold on man," Seth bit back, "I'm coming."

There was a pause in the proceedings and then a very welcome _click_. At once one of the handcuffs dropped away from Dean's raw wrist and on seeing it Roman turned and came back across the sand.

"You ready to run as soon as he gets the other one?"

Dean winced a little,

"Got pins an' needles in my legs."

"Okay," Roman nodded, "It's okay, I'll carry you. Seth, you get Abigail."

Seth grunted,

"Sure thing."

In the background the horrible mass of reptiles was moving closer, in a rolling wave of green scales and wet slimy mud. They were almost on top of them, almost at the buffet and Dean pushed at Roman meekly,

"Go, get out."

"No way babe. We're not about to leave you. Appreciate the gesture though."

He actually _smiled_.

The first croc fang was almost on his boot tip but still his teammates sat fast where they were, the tension rising to unbearable levels before the beautiful sound of _clicking_ again.

In the time it took to blink, his colleagues were moving, with Roman sweeping round him and hooking beneath his arms. He hauled Dean back as the closest reptile launched for him, dragging him across the ground and just out of range. Seth followed up by kicking it in the eyeball which was kind of weird thing.

 _He kicked a crocodile in the_ _eye_.

In the seconds it bought, Roman hefted Dean vertical and onto very wobbly feet, before ducking down in front of him until the smaller man tipped again, Dean's weakened body toppling over Roman's shoulders and then being hefted a little further up.

"What – ,"

"Don't worry babe," Roman grumbled, "I've got you."

The world was upside down but it was _safe-feeling_.

" _Shit_."

The shout – like nearly all of them – was issued from their youngest, as he gathered a still limp Abigail into his shaking arms. A croc was evidently closer than he had wanted but he managed to collect her without further harm.

"What're you waiting for man?" he yelled at Roman, blitzing straight past them, "Come on, let's go."

Then they turned and headed back towards the exit of the enclosure, with Dean bumping hard against his teammate's shoulder bones. Roman was grunting and moving kind of _stiffly_ which meant he was hurt. Another one for the doctor's bed. It was weird to Dean how much the thought worried him. How jarring it was to have their Big Dog under par.

In the background the crocodiles were swarming round a carcass and it took him a second to realize it was Bray. He guessed in reality he should have been disgusted or somehow repulsed by it but he wasn't at all. In fact it was the least the asshole had coming.

Being eaten by his _children._

The ultimate form of _kismet_.

By the time they reached safe ground and slammed the gate behind them, cops were practically _swarming_ the place. Through his upside down vision, Dean could see the blue shapes everywhere but Roman kept going until they reached their surveillance van. It was a plain white thing, nothing special but it was _safety_ and so flinging the doors open, Roman staggered inside. He dropped to his knees and Dean slithered off him until the pair of them were sitting against the metal side by side.

For a moment no one spoke, then Seth appeared in front of them, joining them on the floor having left Abigail with some cops.

"You okay?"

"Who, me?" Dean mumbled, going for humor, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well your lip's bust for a start, not to mention you're fucking _covered_ with bruises. You look like a _paint by numbers_ so don't tell us you're fine."

"So what? I'm beat up, at least I wasn't eaten. You might wanna check up on the Big Guy here though."

As Seth's eyes swung his way, Roman let out a grumble, waving an airy hand,

"Forget it, I'm good."

"Really?" Dean snorted, "So Bray didn't knock your ass out?"

"No he didn't, he just caught me by surprise."

"Sure he did."

"I mean it man."

"Well _you_ were knocked out," Dean frowned just a little, looking up at Seth. Roman blinked in concern,

"When?"

"When god damn fuckin' Abigail took his head off with that paddle."

Seth waved a hand,

"Just stunned me is all."

In the very brief pause that followed his assertion, Roman grinned wryly,

"So to recap, we're _all_ good?"

It was obvious they weren't but they were too proud to admit it, which was why Dean shrugged at him,

"Huh, looks like we are."

In response Roman chuckled and tousled his hair clumsily, the action catching Dean in measures of surprise.

 _What_?

The Ambrose clan had never been affectionate and neither had the bulk of his crazy former friends. They had touched each other to razz or in teasing, or occasionally to _bite_ one another when drunk. No one had ever ruffled his hair _lovingly_ but that was what the bigger man had done without a thought.

Dean blinked.

Maybe he should have jerked his head away from it, like he had done when Bray had tried to touch his locks. But with Roman it was different and so the younger man just sat there, kind of _enjoying_ it.

Maybe he was going soft?

On his other side, Seth slapped his kneecap gently then let his hand hang there. What was wrong with these guys? Then again he was the idiot who was sitting taking it and as the minutes drifted by he _still_ didn't move.

"Crazy day, huh?" Seth offered eventually and Roman sighed, still kneading away at Dean's head,

"One for the books alright, wouldn't you say babe?"

Dean frowned mildly,

"What's with that whole deal?"

"What? You mean _babe_?"

Dean cleared his throat shortly, nodding just a little.

The kneading stopped.

 _Damn_.

"It's just what I call the people I care about. I'll stop if you want me to – ,"

Dean shook his head,

"No. I mean, it's not like I _mind_ it or anythin', it's just _different_."

Roman snorted,

"Says you."

"Hey, I'm a _hell_ of a guy."

"A crazy guy maybe," Seth chipped in grinning and bumping shoulders with him,

"Well, you're partnered with me, so who's laughin' now?"

In the silence that fell between them Roman moved his hand back, using it this time to massage Dean's nape. The younger man sighed, making a tiny little happy noise and dropped his weary head back to slowly shut his eyes.

"Sure you're alright?" Seth asked him quietly and Dean grunted back,

"Told you, I'm fine."

He meant it as well, in more than just the literal sense.

In every way that mattered _they_ were going to be fine.

* * *

 **Next Monday…**

 **Stephanie gets an unwanted visitor and it's down to Dean to try and put things right. Throw in Seth in danger as well and you've got yourself a story!**

 **See you then!**


	2. Jailbreak

**Okay then, so here we are with the second of these one-shots and this one is pretty chaotic as well. Written for Mandy who wanted more of Dean and Steph together and partly for the several lovely people who wanted a bit of Seth-peril as well (although there's more of that to come in later stories, this is just a taster if you will!)**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, I have an unwritten rule where I don't mention the guy's real personal lives because for whatever reason it feels weird for me to write, but I can certainly figure out** _ **something**_ **along those lines...leave it to me and watch this space!**

 **Mandy, Strap yourself in, this is a long one! Hope it has enough Stephanie/Dean moments for you.**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yay! Glad you enjoyed it. I should know by now that you can't throw out the words** _ **crocodile farm**_ **without having to explain what happened at some point!**

 **Cheryl24, Hi, do you mean Luke Harper? Because after him beating them up at the old croc farm I don't think they would really want to help him with anything. But I like the idea of the guys helping out an old friend as a story, so I can always do something like that.**

 **Debwood-1999, Yeah, sorry, but Bray was a meanie and simply had to go out with a bang (or, well, more like a crunch!)**

 **Wwe21, The Miz and Maryse idea is great! And as for the** _ **Seth's time in jail**_ **line of thinking, you might enjoy the story in a couple of chapters time (or at least I hope you do!)**

 **Skovko, Yes, poor crocodile with the busted up eye. Maybe I should donate all my cookies to him to apologise for having Seth kick him in the face? Oh and you're very welcome for the story!**

 **Minnie1015, Yep, that's my only real flashback story so far, the rest are set in the present. I'm not usually very good with origin stories but it was nice to write about Dean starting to realise that maybe just** _ **maybe**_ **he might love those boys!**

 **MyPaperHeart16, Well, it's Monday again so here I am! I've actually got a story about Seth bumping into someone from his prison days coming up. But I'll see what I can do about the death threats. Already got a little idea floating round…**

 **Ninjoy, Ah yes, poor Dean learning to enjoy getting affection, but only really from Roman and Seth. He's like a little stray dog that only likes his people and goes rabid and sort of hates everyone else. Except for Steph as you will see in this story...and maybe Vince a little bit too…**

 **Psion53, Always like to throw a bit of humor into the mix! As for Roman? He's just a big teddy tear which poor affection starved Dean isn't used to at first.**

 **Cherry619, Hey there, firstly, thank you so much for all the lovely feedback you've given over the last couple of days, it's super motivating (and just plain fabulous) to hear and I'm glad you've been enjoying my stories so much. I can definitely work on a Dean hostage/boys outside worrying story, although there's a lot more battered Dean to come!**

 **This one is very long, might want to make yourself a cup of tea now!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Jailbreak**

 **0** **5** **:15am**

Dean woke early to the buzzing of his cell phone before the sun was properly up, the world still lying in a hazy grey around him but just about light enough to be able to make shit out.

Reaching across, he fumbled for it groaning, knocking his watch clean off the nightstand. A partly filled glass of water swiftly followed along with the coaster and –

 _Oh god damn_.

Raising his head with reluctance from his pillow, Dean turned over and sought the thing out, finally clamping a weary hand across it, lifting it to his face and then squinting.

 _Too bright._

Prodding the green button with an unhappy finger, he slapped it to his cheek and grumbled,

"What?"

" _Detective Ambrose_?"

"Yeah, who is this?"

" _Hold please, I have Vince McMahon on the line_."

 _That_ woke him up – well – at least _partly_ because honestly he still sort of felt like hot crap but the Mayor on the phone on a Tuesday was not usual and surely meant that somewhere some shit was going down. Unless Vinny Mac just wanted to shoot the breeze with him at stupid o'clock or whatever time it was?

Glancing across at his blinking alarm, he let out a groan.

Five fucking fifteen.

Only another hour until he was due to get up anyway which pretty much killed his chance of getting back to sleep.

Grumbling a little he turned to plump the pillows and push them into a bolster type effect. With effort he levered himself almost _sort of_ upright and then dropped back into a groggy and uncomfy sit.

" _Detective_?"

"Still here."

" _I'm putting you through now_."

The woman's voice was soft and lilting and no real hardship for Dean to listen to. Vince McMahon's on the other hand was different and as it barked across the line he physically jumped.

" _Ambrose, son_."

There again was the nickname that Vince had been rolling out for the previous few months. Ever since the case when Dean had landed up in hospital after a band of rogue traffickers had tried to snip his kidneys out.

 _Son._

It was an interesting diminutive to have decided to give him and as far as Dean knew, it wasn't one he threw around. Maybe it was because he knew Dean didn't have a father, although how he knew _that_ was anyone's guess. Maybe it was because he saw shades of his _own_ son although Shane McMahon was by no means a suicidal, unkempt cop. Frankly the whole thing was kind of a mystery, as was the reason for the early morning call and so swiping a hand down his face in exhaustion and scratching at his beard, Dean cleared his throat,

"Sir."

" _Got something I want you to do for me Ambrose_ ,"

It was _Classic Vince_ _McMahon_ in that it wasted little time.

"Now?"

" _It's pretty important so if you could see to it instantly_ – ,"

The rest of the sentence tapered off and Dean swung his legs out of the bed clothes and then shivered as the cold air hit him.

Cold?

It was _June_.

"No problem man, what's goin' on?"

If Vince either registered or cared for the _man_ epithet then he wisely decided not to let on, instead sucking a breath in and pausing for a moment before starting off slowly,

" _This isn't an official thing_."

Dean paused abruptly, the cell wedged against his earlobe and held in place there by his shoulder and his cheek. With his _hands free_ in place he had bent down to scoop his jeans up and was attempting to slide into them without a lot of luck, hopping awkwardly across the fucking carpet and trying not to face plant straight down onto the floor.

"So what exactly is it you're askin' me to do here?"

Not official?

That could mean anything.

From picking up Vince's viagra prescription, to getting those plans for the Death Star drawn up. In between murder or being his salsa partner, there were very few things Dean did _not_ expect to hear although – as it turned out – the Mayor still surprised him by asking something simple.

" _I need you to check in on Steph_."

"You – ," Dean blinked, having not expected _that_ one, "I'm sorry, did you say you needed me to check in on the boss? Why is she sick? Was there a full moon out last night? Some Satanic ritual she forgot she had to chant?"

He stopped himself shortly upon suddenly remembering that the man he was talking to had fucking _fathered_ her. Ragging on Stephanie was part of his dynamic but although _she_ understood that, he wasn't sure her old man would.

" _Not exactly_."

"So uh," Dean cleared his throat again, fighting down the _awkward_ , "Why the big rush?"

Vince blew a breath out,

" _I got a call this morning_."

"Already?"

" _From Suplex Penitentiary_."

Dean quietened down.

 _Crap._

Before the Mayor could even get the words out, Dean felt like he already knew. There was a gravity to Vince's tone which he'd only half registered but that now made total sense.

As did the call.

Suplex Penitentiary was where they had locked Hunter, before bolting the door and fucking _throwing_ away the key. Once upon a time Steph and Hunter had been married but that had been before they had uncovered the shit storm. The swirling vortex of corruption and illegality that had almost brought the entire McMahon empire crashing down. Stephanie's position as Police Chief Commissioner had been tarnished and almost completely ripped away. The fact that she was even still _in_ the position was testament to her fortitude.

Okay and maybe her dad.

Still, the spectre of Hunter was unsettling for every last one of them, not just Steph and Vince. Something had to have happened to the asshole. A prison fight? A parole hearing? He'd swallowed razor blades?

 _What?_

" _Hunter escaped from jail this morning_."

Dean blinked.

Of all the possibilities he had in no way expected _that_.

A jail break?

Seriously?

What the hell was this? Some old time movie where someone put a grappling hook around the fucking cell bars and pulled them out with a horse and cart? A cough crossed Dean's lips in surprise and confusion so his question sounded croaky and uneven,

"Wha – _how_?"

" _He took a guard hostage and bartered for his freedom_."

Dean whistled sharply,

"That's some pretty real stuff. Does Steph know yet?"

" _I haven't been able to get in contact with her and I'm right across the city_."

"So you want me to go check?"

Vince exhaled heavily,

" _If you wouldn't mind son_."

 _Son._

Again.

Like Dean was part of the damn family which was utterly ridiculous because he certainly was not. Dean Ambrose – like all of the _Ambroses_ before him – had been born on the very wrong side of the tracks while the _McMahons_ were all country clubs and mornings playing racquetball, not to mention eating meals with three different sized forks. Dean didn't fit into their world even remotely and it was frighteningly plain they would never get his.

They were lucky they met in the _middle_ for the most part.

Still, they were his bosses, so what could he do?

"Sure thing."

 **06:** **1** **5am**

Stephanie lived in an historic red brick building that overlooked the banks of the winding River Raw. It was an old place – she'd told him once – from the middle of the nineteenth century although frankly that had meant little to him.

It was double fronted and dark and austere looking, which pretty much suited its owner to a tee. With an ornate porch with gothic style carvings and an extra-large, extra _solid_ stained wood front door.

Dean had been there on several occasions, including for a party that Steph had thrown once. December time if his memory served correctly in what had been a pretty shamefaced stunt for PR. Still, there had been a full sized tree in the lobby, hung with decorations and ribbons and lights. Dean could remember his girl going crazy about how beautiful and festive the whole thing was and remembering how excited she had gotten about Christmas briefly made him smile.

She had been a total kid.

Letting out a sigh he clumped up the porch steps and dragged down the pull bell which was some reclaimed antique. The house hadn't been in too good a state when Steph had bought it and she had lovingly restored it piece by old piece. Why she wanted to live anywhere _that_ big was beyond him but then again he'd never got how the other half lived.

Somewhere inside the bell jangled merrily but he thumped on the door too for added effect,

"Trick or treat, it's your favorite ex-detective with your early morning wake up call."

He waited a second then frowned for another.

There was nothing.

 _Thump, thump, thump._

"C' mon Steph, open up. Not that I don't enjoy hangin' out on your front doorstep but I _kinda_ have a life of my own as well, y' know?"

Silence remained and so letting out a grumble, Dean clambered up onto the wall of the steps, trying to ignore the fact that if he fell off them he would end up in a neatly trimmed and _prickly_ privet hedge. Stretching a foot out he braced it very carefully against the lip of the window to his right and then leant his body towards it with caution, cupping his eyes to peer in through the glass.

Stephanie's plush and grand great room stared back at him, complete with white couches, white cushions and white rugs. If ever he had needed further proof of her status – no children and no pets – then that room would have been it.

It wasn't exactly what he would have called homey.

In fact it was more of a god damn _show_ place.

Still, it was where his boss kept her coffin on the nights she wasn't out sucking peoples' blood and so he squinted in again past the glare of the sunshine and attempted to look for any signs of life.

The open-plan layout took his eyes through an archway and right on into the kitchen beyond. There was a newspaper laid out open on the breakfast bar next to a cup of coffee with – yep – steam lifting off. Letting out another unhappy grumble Dean pushed back and then jumped down off the wall, hammering against the woodwork with a closed fist heavily and practically _growling_ ,

"God damn it, open up."

At no point throughout the infuriating process had he thought – like Vince – that Hunter was there. Prison escapees didn't tend to head home again, instead they zig-zagged and tried to think on their feet. Hunter had always been a pretty smart cookie and so tracking his ex-wife down was _definitely_ out. Still, Vince McMahon was the Mayor of Suplex City and if he wanted Steph checked on then Dean would see it done.

To that end – still receiving no answer – Dean suddenly rose up onto his toes, extending a hand along the top of the pediment and scrabbling around in the dust above the door. The spare key was located about halfway along it and he hit it too hard and sent it clattering to the floor.

"Crap."

Why was nothing ever fucking easy?

Why could his boss not just open the damn door?

Swiping it up from the middle of the welcome mat, Dean continued grumbling as he slotted it in the door, debating the reasons Steph might be ignoring him and settling on the shower, sheer insolence or a fall.

The lock clicked heavily and he twisted the handle and pushed his way inside with a resolute grunt,

"I'm comin' in."

A grand and airy entrance hall greeted him and he winced as his boots squeaked loudly on the tiles. In the continuing silence the noise sounded deafening and it made him pause in the doorway.

"Steph?"

Honestly by this point he'd been expecting to hear from her or at the very least have _some_ sort of inkling she was there. Charging down the stairs that wrapped around the walls perhaps, clad in a bath towel and yelling at him to get out.

Instead he had nothing.

A big fat _nada_.

The place was too quiet and he didn't like it one bit.

"Shit."

His fingers danced around at his waistband and ever so quietly drew out his gun. Probably he was totally overreacting but there was _something_ he just couldn't put his finger on. It hung in the air and created an energy shot through with tension.

The place just felt _off._

"Steph?"

Dean tried again for a final time and then –

There it was.

A tiny little noise.

Not much more than a dull sort of thudding sound but a definite sign of life nonetheless. Almost as if someone had pushed something over or banged on the floor.

Dean froze.

A cry for help?

Either way it had come from the first floor and so hugging the wall he set off up the stairs, taking each step both deliberately and slowly and cursing the antique wood as the treads creaked and groaned.

As far as Dean could accurately remember he had been upstairs in Steph's house just once, back at the aforementioned publicity stunt party when he and his girl had been a little worse for wear. Well, okay, so maybe _she_ hadn't been but he had been buzzed from a couple of beers and suddenly the idea of getting down in his boss' bathroom had seemed like one hell of a brilliant idea. He had dragged her up there giggling and protesting and they had stumbled into a couple of rooms but fortunately the bathroom had never materialized and she had eventually cooled his passions and taken him back down.

 _Her_.

Now was not a good time to be remembering the features that had made her so completely unique and so instead he tried to focus those memories into creating something useful.

Like a sketchy blueprint of the house.

The final step on the staircase was the loudest and he stifled a groan as it squeaked up a _storm_. So much for his stealthy progression. He was pretty sure the neighbours had even heard _that_ one.

Beyond him the hallway lay muted and empty but there was also a suspense that drew him along and it pulled him past the first few closed bedrooms and to a door at the end that was slightly ajar.

Dean's heart pounded with the self-same adrenaline that he usually felt when he was out on a job, only this time he was stalking the Police Commissioner's mansion without his erstwhile teammates backing him up. He didn't even know if there _was_ any danger or if it was fictitious.

 _Nope_.

His police brain never lied.

Reaching the door he stood for a second and tried to listen again for the noise. Unsurprisingly silence was all that replied to him and so he grit his teeth together and inched the door wide.

Stephanie.

Stephanie was staring straight back at him, curled on the carpet at the foot of her bed. She was still in her nightdress with a silk robe draped over it and on her face was an expression he hadn't seen for years. It was tense, wide-eyed and sort of _unsettled_. In fact the last time she'd looked like that –

Dean shifted the gun.

 _Shit_.

His eyes were still fixed on Steph's hunched position when the cool tasting metal bit into his head. A firearm pressing very lightly to his temple and accompanied by a chamber's harsh click.

"Ambrose."

Dean let his eyes slide shut briefly,

"Hunter."

"Nice of you to stop by."

When he looked up again, Stephanie was watching him and it was pretty gut wrenching to see her so scared. His boss was usually a pillar of stability who was pretty hard to irritate far less to freak out, but there she was looking utterly terrified and he didn't fucking blame her one little bit.

Dean shrugged, going for cavalier as usual in an attempt to somewhat lighten the mood. He figured that if he could act almost indifferent then it might succeed in bolstering Stephanie as well.

"Y' know, I was just _sorta_ in the neighborhood, figured I'd call in and see how you were."

Hunter snorted but it wasn't a kind sound,

"Well then it looks like we've got ourselves a party."

" _This_ is a party? Gotta tell ya man, it sucks."

Hunter barked an order out roughly,

"Get in there now, down on the ground."

Dean complied still cursing himself mentally as Hunter reached over and snatched away his gun. Putting his hands up, Dean pushed the door wider and crossed over the carpet to where his boss was. His boots left semi dirty footprints on the carpet – white again, when would she learn – but nobody much seemed to notice the damage since all eyes were fixed on the armed and dangerous man.

"You alright?" Dean grumbled gruffly as he took a place by the foot of the bed. He dropped back against it, stretching his legs out and couldn't help but notice the way Stephanie scooted near. Her face was a mask of tense desperation but there was also disapproval,

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I – uh – actually I came to check up on you,"

Hunter smirked,

"Hey, _great_ job man."

Their adversary had taken a seat directly opposite, dropping down onto an antique wooden stool. Behind him was Stephanie's glitzy mirrored vanity with her makeup and jewellery laid out in neat rows. The gun hung limply between Hunter's kneecaps but occasionally bobbed almost absently around. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that the asshole would use it, which left one very important, very frantic little question.

What in the holy _hell_ happened now?

 **06.30am**

For the first five minutes they all sat in silence which was basically fucking uncomfortable and tense.

Nobody moved and nobody said anything, except for the escapee-come-crazed-hostage-taker whose knee would _not_ stop bouncing up and down. It was a nervous little gesture as Dean knew only too well – not being a fan of staying still himself – but the faster it jerked the more it drove home the message that Hunter was angry and growing ever more stressed.

He was wearing a uniform but it was pretty tight fitting and the gaping ankle flesh proved it belonged to someone else. Based on the badge denoting _Suplex Penitentiary_ that _someone_ was the guard he had held captive to break out. There was a weird sort of glint in his eyes – like he was hungry but for more than just food – and Dean didn't like that.

Beside him, Stephanie shifted uncomfortably and bumped her thigh in close against his. She would never have admitted it – not even under torture – but she was looking for comfort and frightened as hell. Hunter licked his lips and dropped his gaze to her exposed skin and on instinct Dean cleared his throat and tried to draw the eyes up,

"So, I got a question, why aren't you miles away? I mean, pretty sure the whole _city_ is out lookin' for your ass and I won't be the only one that comes round here either. Why don't you make a break for it while you still can?"

Hunter snorted, looking back like Dean was stupid and wasn't _that_ a pleasing thought?

"You think I busted loose so I could head for the hills Ambrose?"

Dean frowned,

"You didn't? So what's the deal here man?"

"Me," Stephanie answered from beside him pretty evenly but far too quiet, "He came here for me."

Hunter grinned,

" _Hmm_ , still pretty sharp Steph, gotta say I kinda missed that in the clink."

Beside him Dean could feel his boss shudder and he dropped his hand surreptitiously onto his leg, shifting across his pinky finger just a fraction to press against her knee and help keep her calm.

"So what? This whole deal is some sorta _revenge_ shit?"

Hunter made a gun with his fingers,

"Bingo."

"You seriously went to all this fuckin' trouble just to – what – get back at your ex-wife?"

Dean's face screwed up in measures of astonishment tempered heavily with disbelieving doubt. Convicts escaping or trying to make a run for it weren't exactly new but a _grudge_ -breakout was. Hunter was seriously prepared to return to prison with a heftier sentence just to stick it to Steph?

"What can I say?" Hunter held his arms out, "At the end of the day I'm a petty, petty man."

Dean snorted back,

"A petty fuckin' _screwed_ man because after this shit you ain't _ever_ gettin' out."

He was talking about prison and the inevitable re-sentencing but alarmingly Hunter appeared not to mind, the smug sort of smirk he had been wearing since Dean had got there not only widening but lengthening as well,

"Does it look like that bothers me?"

Dean blinked.

It didn't which honestly kind of took the wind from his sails,

"Well, it should."

"Oh yeah, why should it? _Enlighten_ me."

"Fine," Dean shrugged, "How 'bout the guards? I mean, you just took one of their own guys hostage, so if were you I'd expect – like – a _bunch_ of night sticks up the ass."

Hunter grinned again and then actually chuckled which was as hollow and empty as his small squinty eyes. If the guy was going for the _Villain of the Month_ award then he was definitely in the running for taking first prize. All he was missing was an office chair and white cat although one of Steph's rugs would have probably worked.

"Hostage?"

Hunter's one word echo threw him and Dean frowned mildly,

"You threatened a guard."

"Oh, I see, so _that's_ what they're saying?"

"How is this fuckin' funny to you?"

Beside him Stephanie blew a little breath out, her voice sounding strained,

"He bribed them."

"Oh."

So there was the answer and it suddenly made sense to him.

Hunter hadn't grabbed anyone at all. He hadn't pressed a homemade shank to any windpipes or gagged and bound some poor overworked schmuck, instead he had simply waved a handful of fifties and pretty much been given the keys to the door.

 _Christ._

They were going to have to vet the whole department and possibly overhaul the wider prison staff. The press would go insane if they knew the guards were crooked and neither Stephanie nor Vince would want the fallout from that. Of course that was providing that he somehow got them out of there, which – frankly, in the moment – he didn't know he could do.

He was unarmed and facing down a man who had no conscience.

What a damn morning it was turning out to be.

"When you're as rich as I am, jail time isn't so bad."

"That's what Al Capone thought before Alcatraz."

Hunter quirked a brow at him, his lips twitching in amusement,

"Huh, I forgot you were a _weird fact_ nerd."

"History Channel," Dean shot back coolly, "Oh wait, do you not get that in the pen?"

Hunter smiled thinly, enjoying the sparky banter,

"Trust me kid, I get anything I want."

His arrogance was staggering and pretty damn annoying but at the same time it was playing straight into Dean's hands. The longer he could keep the asshole talking then the more time it would give Seth and Roman to arrive. Not that they knew he was actually in danger but that didn't matter.

He just knew they would be there.

Timing was the key though, he had to keep things going and so smirked back smugly,

"Not _everything_ though, right?"

"Meaning?"

"Have you found yourself a nice little shower buddy? What's he called? I'm guessin' Victor or Juan."

To make the point that he was finding it all too easy, Dean let out a sigh and sat back a little more, crossing his legs almost idly at the ankles and tucking his arms with insolence behind his head,

" _Ambrose_ – ," Stephanie began almost tersely, but Dean shrugged back at her,

"What? I really wanna know."

"Ambrose _stop_."

Evidently he wasn't helping and when he chanced a glance back up he could suddenly see why. Hunter was practically leering at Stephanie and his free hand had dropped out of sight between his legs. Dean couldn't see what _exactly_ he was doing but the motions were steady so he could certainly guess.

Again his boss shuddered only this time Hunter saw it and his teeth appeared shark-like,

"Looking good Steph – sitting over there in that sexy little nightgown with those breasts I bought."

Dean blinked.

Okay, _gross_.

That was not the sentence he expected and nor was it the sentence he wanted to hear. Stephanie McMahon was like a dowager aunt to him or a really feisty cousin or a _much older_ sis. That meant that discussions of breasts and sex were outlawed as wrong and incestuous and just plain _ugh_. Hunter however had not received that memo and so instead of shutting up, he carried right on, lifting the hand that had been stroking at his privates and using it to scratch his stubbly beard.

"You know what Ambrose? You might have a point there. It _has_ been too long and for her age, she looks hot. I mean, we've already got ourselves a nice king sized bed in here – ,"

Dean bristled fiercely,

"You'd have to come through me first."

No way was he letting _shit_ happen to Stephanie although Hunter merely smiled and re-aimed the gun, reminding him that he didn't have a choice in the matter although Dean merely glared back.

He wasn't backing down.

In the end it was Steph who broke the tense deadlock by sighing almost wearily,

"Hunter, please."

"Please what? Are you begging for me now? Is that what's happening?"

Dean grumbled darkly but his boss put a hand on him, warning him silently to keep his calm,

"No."

"You know I can take what belongs to me Stephanie and the way I see it, you still belong to me."

As the tension began to crackle around them like a pan of hot oil about to catch fire, Dean's jean pocket began suddenly vibrating and in the unsettled silence it was painfully clear. Knowing what it was with a speed that surprised them, Hunter put out an unhappy meaty hand, waggling his fingers and demanding the cell phone.

Their one hope for salvation.

"Pass it over here."

 _Damn._

Glancing at the screen as Dean flung it over with a grumble that definitely ended in _ass_ , Hunter let out a tiny bark of astonishment and then looked up,

"I heard Rollins was back."

Dean's stomach pitched and then rolled with ferocity and his face shadowed furiously,

"Leave him alone."

"What do you know if he wasn't next on my hit list."

"If you so much as _touch_ him – ,"

Hunter grinned again,

"What do you say we send him a little message? Get him to come over here and join the fun, huh?"

Almost on instinct Dean started moving, trying to stop what he knew was going to come but in response Hunter quickly hitched the gun's aim higher, finding his forehead as Steph grabbed his arm,

"Ambrose, _sit down_."

She pushed him roughly back onto the carpet and Dean went – his heart pounding – as Hunter typed a text out, grinning like a child on fucking Christmas morning as he lured Dean's youngest brother right into a trap. Things were going south so damn quickly.

He needed to think.

He _had_ to get them out.

 **07:00am**

If the tension had been bad before – and it had been – then waiting for Seth made things eighteen times worse. Hunter was practically pulsing with energy while Dean was fidgeting and twitching with guilt.

Seth had always been terrified of Hunter, even back before the whole _blackmailing_ thing. Hunter Hearst Helmsley was a fucking force of nature and Seth – _Seth_ who was pretty much a livewire – had been utterly cowed whenever he'd been around.

Looking back it was probably no surprise Hunter had baited him and chosen him alone to be the one to break their team. For all Seth's bluster he could be naïve sometimes and he was often so damn anxious that he didn't think straight.

The thought of his face as he stepped through the doorway and the thought of Hunter blowing him away, was far too cruel for Dean to even contemplate and fucking unfair.

Seth had come _so_ far.

Hunter had broken him and left him with nothing except a two year jail sentence and a trail of shattered dreams and yet the younger man had prevailed and rebuilt and gotten over it. What right did Hunter have to take that all away again?

The thoughts and feelings were almost _so_ reactive that Dean had to physically fight them back down. Working his hand without stopping across his collarbone while the fingers twitched jerkily and ticked like a metronome.

Beside him Stephanie sat almost like a statue, knowing that if she moved her ex-husband might strike again, might notice her and keep on with the needling or else potentially do something a lot worse. Because wasn't that an added fucking bonus? Not only was Dean tied in _knots_ about his brother, but he was also pretty damn worried about her. Hunter was a man who didn't want to just kill her, he wanted to _break_ her when she was powerless to resist. Honestly, Dean had never heard her so silent or ever felt her less in control. She was posed though, almost sort of elegant in adversity and he liked that and the fact that she wouldn't be beaten down. It fuelled his resolve and he made himself a promise.

As long as he was there and still vaguely breathing, then Hunter Hearst Helmsley would _not_ get his way.

Over on the dresser Dean's phone kept on buzzing as Seth either replied or Roman got in touch, wanting to know if he needed any breakfast or if he'd heard about the jailbreak or if he was even up.

Each time Hunter glanced at it and smiled a bit but didn't pass on what the messages were, eventually however – in response to a new ping – his brow quirked up and he snorted again,

"Ah, well, if it isn't the Mayor. But tell me Ambrose, why would Vince be phoning you? I'm guessing it was him that sent you over here this morning? Wanted you to check up on his precious baby girl?"

Dean felt Stephanie stiffen against him but her face didn't show it.

Still, Hunter knew.

"So?" Dean shrugged, "You really think the _Mayor_ wouldn't find out your ass had busted loose?"

"Sent his best guy in, huh? Good news Stephanie, daddy has got this whole thing in hand. Maybe you and me should take a few pictures, give the old guy something to get worked up about."

"Go to hell Hunter."

For a second they all blinked at her although Dean tensed on instinct, fearing the worst. Mostly he expected the escaped convict to stomp over, knock her around or lift up the gun. Shifting very slightly he prepared to protect her but then Hunter threw him off with a laugh,

"Now _there's_ the firebrand bitch I married, good to see she's still around, kind of feels like old times, huh sweetie?"

Stephanie's gaze darkened and a chill shivered through her, either from the cold or else general alarm. Still, there was a bite to her tone as she answered and the asshole was right, the fire _was_ back,

"Give it up Hunter, you'll lose like you always do. Face it, you were just never _the man_."

Dean gaped.

Okay, so much for going easy, what his boss was doing now was like a red rag to a bull,

"Uh, Steph – ,"

But clearly she didn't want to hear it and for a moment it was like Dean wasn't in the room. The trauma of being held hostage in her bedroom was starting to needle and chafe and _grate_ and she wasn't prepared to take it much longer.

She was a McMahon.

She would always, _always_ fight.

"You know, you might be a little more frightening if you hadn't sent me all those begging letters for so long, writing them from your cell saying how much you missed me and wanted me back and were sorry for what you'd done – ,"

Hunter twitched.

Dean fucking _saw_ him do it and a cold wash flooded through him,

"Yeah, boss, stop right now."

Naturally she didn't though because although she was intelligent she was far too pent up now to let this shit go. More to the point – having never been a beat cop – she didn't have a sense of what it took to make someone blow. Hunter outwardly looked pretty darn neutral but Dean could tell he was close to flipping out and if his boss kept pushing him and inching him closer then one of them would end up with a bullet in their skull.

"You're _pathetic_ Hunter, you've always been pathetic and what's more you always _will_ be as well. I'm just sorry that I was blind to that back then, but I'm stronger now and you won't fool me again. You're washed up, weak and I hate you – I _hate_ you – so you can go ahead and do whatever the hell you want to me and then you can get your ass out of my house."

 _Shit._

Dean blinked and then glanced across to Hunter who – yep – was definitely _not_ smiling any more. Stephanie was still sort of shaking against him but this time Dean knew that it was driven by rage.

Swiftly he tried to grab the big man's attentions since the cold narrowed eyes were all over his boss,

" _Hey_ – ,"

But the two former lovebirds were locked on each other and quite frankly the Shield man might as well have not been there,

"Careful Steph, you don't want to make me angry."

She glowered at him,

"You don't scare me anymore. You almost broke me once and so whatever you choose to do to me, trust me when I say that it can't be any worse."

"Wanna bet?"

"Hey – ," Dean growled once again to the same reaction as Hunter's smirk widened then grew dark.

"You asked for this _honey_."

Then suddenly the big guy was up again and moving, streaking towards his ex-wife with purpose across the space. Stephanie flinched. As in she _physically_ flinched away from him and feeling it Dean threw his body in front of hers, timing it just as Hunter swung a big boot in and catching it full across the stomach.

 _Holy fuck._

The breath billowed out of him bodily and he spluttered, his ringing ears only vaguely hearing Stephanie's yell,

" _No_ – ,"

Broad hands fell down around Dean's collar and hauled him roughly upright with an arm around his neck. Dean had been struggling to breath as it was so this new _choking_ did little to help. Despite having been locked up, Hunter's forearm was still sizeable and as the criminal flexed it, Dean's air supply cut off. To make matters worse he was still holding the gun out, which for the second time in an hour, he pressed back to Dean's head.

As Dean's blue eyes flickered upwards in pain and confusion and what was rapidly turning into a lack of oxygen _haze_ , they landed on Stephanie and her face was a picture.

But not a very good one.

She was white with concern.

"Say it Steph," Hunter bellowed from above him, jerking Dean around like a copper blonde ragdoll, "Say that I've won, I want to hear you say it."

"Hunter please – ,"

She looked teary.

" _Say it_."

"You've won."

It wasn't a very magnanimous statement and it shivered through the air both horrified and shrill but fortunately it had the much _much_ needed upshot of Hunter's meaty arm instantly slithering away. Dean fell back against the king size bed coughing and at once she was there with her hand on his chest,

"Ambrose? Dean? Are you alright? _Say_ something."

He sucked a croaky breath in and coughed again,

"M' okay."

Glancing up his eyes found out Hunter who was standing against the dresser looking hopeless smug. The bigger man's lips were twitched up in flicker of what was either grim amusement or surprise or maybe both and he let a little noise out that wasn't quite a grumble but was more of a contemplative sounding grunt.

"Looks like my ex-wife has got herself a favorite, didn't think she cared about anyone anymore."

Dean coughed a third time and then pushed himself upright, levering himself with his elbow off the floor. The shift in positions meant that he was right in front of Stephanie and in the scheme of things that was probably for the best, tugging down his shirt collar he let out a mirthless chuckle and offered another cavalier shrug up,

"We've been through a lot."

"A lot in this bed?" Hunter gestured towards it and Dean's face screwed up on instinct,

"What? _No_."

"Right, I forgot, you got that pretty little blonde thing, you still seeing her?"

Dean tensed,

" _Don't_ say her name."

The tone was more warning than perhaps Hunter had heard it because he merely snorted and held up his hands, returning to his place on the stool by the doorway and stretching his legs out like he was settling in.

Behind Dean, Steph moved ever so slightly and tugged at his shirt,

"Look, I'm sorry about – ,"

"I _know_ , but just do me a favor and leave the talkin' to me, huh?"

Hunter blew out a breath and checked his watch lazily,

"Come on Rollins, we're all waiting for you."

 **07:30am**

Of course Seth would fucking show up.

It was a given.

Although Dean's heart still fell and downright _flipped_ as he heard the door, the jangling of Stephanie's antique bell startling in the silence that had fallen over the hostage situation from hell.

In response to it Hunter let out a snorted chuckle and his thin lips drew into a lopsided line.

"Looks like our latest breakfast guest has turned up, let's go and give him a warm welcome, huh?"

Despite the danger that was still all around him and radiating out from the god damn handgun, Dean shifted slightly on the carpet in warning, his fists tensing up,

"I'm warnin' you, leave him alone."

Hunter quirked his head at him briefly, frowning just a little,

"What's it to you? The guy put you in the damn hospital, remember?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted in reply, "Because of _you_."

Hunter shrugged,

"Yeah but, come on, Seth was pretty pliable, didn't take a lot for me to get him on our side. I got the feeling he would've given you boys up in a heartbeat – probably still would."

Dean's jaw tightened,

"Bullshit."

Once upon a time he might have believed him and that was true even within the last few months. But that was before The Shield had reunited and Seth had saved his ass not once but twice. No matter how good of an actor his younger brother was, there was no way he could have faked the concern in his eyes, or the panic both times when they thought Dean was lost to them and the relief and the strength of the hugs that had held him tight.

Seth wasn't acting this time.

He was just Seth again.

Which was why Dean could not – _would_ not – let him get hurt.

"Fine, have it your way," Hunter sighed idly and then flung something across to them, "Tie her up."

"What?"

The item was a long scratchy length of white cording and by _her_ Hunter was clearly referring to Steph. Dean glanced across at her and watched her eyes flicker in measures of horror and outright alarm. In response, Hunter merely waved the gun in their direction, his tone more urgent,

"Tie her hands up good and tight, I don't want you trying to cheat me on this one. You tie her up so she can't get out."

For a second Dean merely sort of blinked in bewilderment, looking between his boss, their captor and the rope. He was about to protest – he knew Hunter could _feel_ it – when Stephanie put her wrists out towards him and shook her head,

"It's fine Dean, do it."

Dean.

Not Ambrose.

Either Steph was giving up or else she didn't want to see him hurt.

He wavered again for another few seconds but then the doorbell sounded louder and was accompanied by thumping hands. Seth – as usual – was getting antsy being kept waiting and the knock on effect was Hunter waving the gun.

" _Now_."

Reluctantly Dean picked up the binding and began to wind it around Steph's wrists. The whole time he was trying to figure out how to loosen it, or tie a fake knot, but he'd skipped the eagle scouts. Besides which Hunter was sitting watching closely and so in the end he had little choice but to get it done right. Stephanie actually _flinched_ as the knot tightened and Dean watched it feeling like an absolute shit.

"There," he growled, dropping her hands away from him, pinned together tightly, "Are you fuckin' happy now?"

"Almost," Hunter nodded, getting something from his pocket which clanked together slightly.

Handcuffs.

 _Holy fuck._

"You gotta be _kiddin'_ me?"

"Turn around Ambrose – stand up and turn around and do it nice and slowly so I can see you, don't want to go getting a twitchy trigger finger now."

Letting out a sigh of patience that was waning, Dean clambered up on tense and restless feet, just _itching_ to kick out and catch the asshole's ankles, or a calf or possibly even his dick. Once he was in place, Hunter stood and walked back over, pressing the gun barrel against the back of Dean's head. Downstairs there was another loud thumping at the front door and the very faint sounds of Seth shouting for him,

"Dean?"

Seth.

If Hunter managed to get the cuffs around him then he would basically be free to go down and murder Seth. Dean's heart exploded and his blood began drumming, positively _throwing_ itself up against his walls. He _had_ to stop what was about to fucking happen, which meant he had to make his move _now_.

It was risky though and if he even slightly missed it then there was a huge chance of taking a bullet to the skull. Still, the sound of gunfire would warn Seth away from there and maybe even give Steph a chance to escape too, so as batshit crazy plans went it wasn't the _worst_ one and knowing it Dean sucked a breath in and decided to go for broke.

As Hunter stepped in a second time, a little closer, Dean spun suddenly around where he stood, raising his right hand as he swung on his axis and pivoting just fast enough to knock away the gun.

"What the – ," Hunter barked, but Dean was still moving, his left hand closing into a fist as he swung. It pounded solidly into the middle of Hunter's temple and it was pleasing to hear the thud and to _see_ his head snap back.

Take _that_.

The gun skittered off across the ridiculous white carpet but before Dean could launch for it, Hunter was back, recovering surprisingly well given the force of it and latching his arms around Dean's body tight. Letting out a growl the Shield man wriggled out of it, ducking from the hold and adding a second punch into the gut.

"Oof – ,"

Hunter crumpled forwards but still didn't topple and as Dean surged in toward him, Hunter threw a jab of his own, catching the younger man right across the cheekbone and actually sending him tumbling back.

 _Shit._

Dean hit the bed and bounced lightly on the mattress but his relief was short-lived as Hunter fell down on top, driving the wind clean out of him, still punching and aiming a couple of meaty blows at his ribs.

Dean twisted, blocking his tender solar plexus and raised his fists to pummel Hunter's face, which led the convict to Dean's windpipe for a second time as he tried to re-employ the agonizing choke. This time however, Dean was more ready and so merrily dug his thumb right into Hunter's eye. In response to the pain and sudden near-blinding, the bigger man roared and then staggered off, pawing his face as Dean rolled from the king size and then launched like a dart clean into Hunter's chest.

"Ambrose – ," Steph shouted in alarm from the carpet, where she was still sat, keeping herself low beside the bed.

The two men staggered backwards and crashed up hard against the dresser, at which point his boss' makeup pots tumbled off. Hunter punched again and the breath left Dean's system as he groaned in discomfort.

God damn it, stay _down_.

He would hand it to the big guy, for an older man he was on it, as he then proved by tackling Dean back to the ground.

"You piece of shit," Hunter snarled in his earlobe as they rolled across the floor, kicking and tussling left and right, "Rollins should have killed you when he had a fucking shot at it."

Seth.

Outside.

He _had_ to save Seth.

With a bellow of belief and tension and _aggression_ , Dean reached up and wrenched his rival off, kicking him back into the half opened doorway, but knocking himself over with the exertion as well.

 _Crap._

Hunter banged into the framework unsteadily but regained his balance and starting stomping back. His face was a snarled up mess of pure fury and he _screamed_ across the space,

"I'll have to do it myself."

He was bearing down like a god damn freighter and there was little Dean could do to get him to stop. So instead he braced himself for the impact and drew a sharp breath in,

 _Bang, bang, bang._

The guy was almost fully on top of him when the gunshots went off and echoed violently around the room, exploding in his eardrums and virtually deafening him, as well as confusing him.

What had gone on?

Looking up he noticed that Hunter had stopped moving and a look of bewilderment had slid across his face. As Dean continued watching, he noticed a mark blooming, starting out as a pin prick then spreading right across Hunter's chest. Dark red blood began to seep across the uniform and with a shuddery exhale, Hunter Helmsley fell down.

Dead.

Stephanie was knelt on the carpet by the dresser, Dean's service gun clenched tightly between her bound hands. She was shaking, her entire fucking body sort of _juddering_ and her eyes were locked in firmly on her non-breathing former spouse. The firearm too was still pointed outwards and it was clear that his boss was going into shock.

"Shit."

Stumbling up onto his feet Dean crossed towards her, dropping down beside her with a pained sounding grunt. She didn't really seem to register his presence and so gently and very lightly he pulled loose the gun. Somewhere downstairs the front door blew off its hinges and not one but two voices called out to him,

" _Dean_?"

Roman _and_ Seth.

Both of them.

 _Sweet Jesus._

His voice wavered ever so slightly,

"Up here."

Quickly Dean set about unravelling the knots that he had so reluctantly tied in place. It took a bit of time, because his damn hands were shaking, but he managed it eventually with a relieved sounding huff. As the last of the cords fell away from Steph's fingers, he grabbed her arms and shook her,

" _Hey_."

"Ambrose?"

Her eyes were glued on Hunter's body and he didn't want them there,

"Yeah, m' here, look at me."

She did, sort of slowly and almost in apprehension like she couldn't or didn't want to believe that it was real, but the second their orbs met something sort of _deflated_ and her face twisted up into a mask of despair.

Crap.

In all the years he'd known her – which amounted to maybe seven – Dean had never _once_ seen the woman cry. He had never seen anything other than steadfast or cool or even emotionless at times. It was sort of a given, almost like the sun setting or rising ever later as winter closed in. It was just part of nature that she was basically unfeeling and yet there she was slumped with tears in her eyes.

" _Hey_ – ," Dean ground out and she folded in towards him in a rush of hysteria he hadn't known was on the way. He responded pretty quickly though, wrapping his arms around her and shushing her softly as he started to kind of _rock_.

 _Backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards._

Like he was trying to get a tiny baby off to sleep.

Her crying was silent but utterly gut wrenching and it was still going on as footsteps pounded up the stairs, chasing along the corridor and bursting in breathlessly although they ground to a halt instantly at the chaotic scene,

"Holy fuck."

Seth actually jumped back away from Hunter's body and Dean didn't blame him one little bit. It would have been just like that sucker to be faking or else come back to life like the god damn undead.

Stepping across him and taking in the blood stains, the discarded bindings and Dean's bruise-littered face, Roman squatted down and put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes drinking in their boss' quietly sobbing form.

"She alright?"

Dean nodded vaguely,

"Will be."

"How about you uce?"

The copper blonde looked across, staring at Roman and his calm grounding presence and then the twitchy form of Seth still hovering in the door. The _Architect's_ mind was whirring like a demon beneath his expressive and widened brown eyes but he was there and _not dead_ and that was the main thing and so Dean snorted roughly,

"You know me, I'll be fine."

 **08.10am**

Stephanie had been wrapped in a thick woollen blanket and given a cup of coffee by the paramedic crew. She was propped on a stool at the breakfast bar in her kitchen with a _bevy_ of people crowded around. All of them gabbling and chatting on cell phones while uniformed officers buzzed in and out.

After Seth had put in a call for reinforcements the whole of the fucking _city_ had arrived. Complete with sirens and bells and whistles which had proceeded to wake each and every neighbor up.

It wasn't what Stephanie had wanted or needed and Dean could see that as she slumped against the bar, staring into space and moving her head minutely at the endless staccato questions being asked.

Did you hit your head at any point?

Were you physically injured at all?

Do you know how your ex-husband got in here?

How long has it been since you had contact with him?

Dean watched it happen from a couch in the living room where he had grouchily installed himself for an exam. Roman had insisted he let himself be checked over given the choking and all the bruises from being punched. Dean had agreed to do it with ill gratitude but he _had_ agreed to it so that was something at least. Not that it stopped him sort of _growling_ at the paramedic and batting her hands off while muttering,

"I'm fine."

" _Fuck_ ," Seth put in from somewhere beside them, pacing back and forwards and rubbing hands through his hair. It was safe to say the whole _Hunter thing_ had rattled him but his state was not much helping Dean's darkened mood.

"Seth," Roman hissed, knowing it instantly in that weird telepathic big brother way he had, "Cut it out."

The younger man ground to a halt almost guiltily and exhaled shortly,

"I'm sorry, it's just – ,"

Dean waved a hand,

"Nah, you're alright man, I get it, okay? The guy messed you up."

"You're not the only one either," Roman rumbled and they all turned to look at their stone faced boss, cradling her coffee in lightly shaking fingers and trying to seem in control of it all.

"Geez," Seth blew out, "She must have been terrified."

Dean's expression folded in,

"She was."

Somewhere across the hall back out in the foyer the front door abruptly burst open with a thud and as everyone turned to look in bewilderment a frantic looking Vince McMahon stalked in. His security detail were trying to outflank him but even at his age he was leaving them behind, desperately crossing the distance to his daughter and sweeping her up against him in a hug.

"Sweetheart."

"Dad."

Steph practically _melted_ into him, finally letting her tense muscles loosen up, burying herself into her father's breasted jacket and hiding her face from everyone else. Dean let out the breath he'd been holding, glad to see her contented at last. She'd been holding shit together since the moment things had erupted but now she could finally let go of herself.

Immediately that it happened Vince's sharp gaze snapped upright and he barked an order out,

"Everyone away."

"But sir – ,"

It was the officer in charge of the crime scene.

The Mayor's narrowed eyes flared,

"I mean _now_."

"But the forensic evidence is still being gathered – ,"

"Then gather it _upstairs_ and nowhere near here."

For a minute it looked like the cop was going to argue but then he thought better of it and wisely backed down, throwing his hands into the air in frustration and then turning to shoo the milling crowd out.

"Alright everybody, come on, you heard him, pack your crap up and take it with you, let's go."

On instinct Dean and his teammates moved with them, turning to head out with the general flow. Roman slung an arm around Dean's shoulders, slapping him with a big broad paw across the chest. Seth fell naturally in step alongside them and they were almost in the hall again when Vince called out,

"Ambrose, Reigns, Rollins, not you three, come on boys, get over here."

The harangued crime scene officer shot them a look of murder and Dean simply smirked at him, not liking the guy.

There was a veritable _exodus_ of emergency service folks but The Shield stood still like an island in the middle, letting the waves rush loudly around them until the kitchen and lounge were mercifully clear.

"Wow," Seth blinked and Vince smiled thinly, clapping his hands together,

"Much better, don't you think?"

Now in the fresh air, Roman crossed towards Stephanie, moving into _dad mode_ despite the fact her own was there. Vince McMahon however was not a _regular_ father whereas Roman on the other hand most definitely was. Swiping up her long cold coffee, he tipped it away and winked,

"How 'bout I make you a fresh one of these?"

Stephanie looked up and drew a long breath in, steadying herself,

"Thank you Roman, that would be nice."

Seth dropped down onto the barstool beside her and tapped her hand with his own,

"Kind of a rough morning, huh?"

In the background Roman looked at Dean in amusement as they both lamented Seth's somewhat awkward choice of words. Still, Seth being Seth was inherently fucking _normal_ and evidently their deeply frazzled boss thought so too,

"That's one way of putting it."

"I – uh – I'm glad you're okay though."

"Thank you Rollins, I'm glad you are too."

Dean snorted mildly and again glanced at Roman, his expression the picture of _well fuck me_. Stephanie and Seth were damn _infamous_ at this point for almost continually butting stubborn heads but evidently the threat of having both been on Hunter's naughty list had bonded them a little.

 _Huh._

Every cloud he guessed.

It was something the three of them had spoken about earlier – as the paramedics had swept in and the clean-up operation had kicked off – the fact that Seth had been lured there by the text message which up until the gunshot he had thought to be from Dean.

 _That_ had been pretty difficult in the telling and the copper blonde had hated the look on the Seth's face. The younger man had moved through a range of emotions and although anger had featured in it pretty heavily, so too had alarm, plus wild confusion and a strange sort of defencelessness that did _not_ belong there.

Not ever.

Not for Seth.

As Roman had ruffled the hair very lightly, Dean had thrown spoken reassurance to the wind and had physically pulled Seth in against his body, holding him tightly in a bone crushing hug. He had told himself at the time it was to make Seth feel better and to let him know that he was safe again now. But there was also no denying that it reassured his own heart to _feel_ Seth and to prove his kid brother was alive and well. After all, Hunter had come pretty close to succeeding in his audacious attempt to fucking _gun him down_.

Close but not too close since Dean had defeated him.

Although in the end the hug had done _both_ of them good.

Watching as Stephanie and Seth reconnected over their joint hatred of Hunter made Dean smile and as Roman busied himself with the coffee beans, the battered policeman dropped back against the doorframe.

It was comfortable.

 _This._

It kind of felt like family.

Although he still jumped a mile at the touch of a hand, thumping down onto his shoulder like a bowling bowl and jerking his whole body in a spasm of alarm.

"Sorry son."

" _Fuck_ – ," Dean breathed out shortly before regretting his choice of words as Vince blinked back,

"Didn't mean to startle you."

"S' okay, I was due a heart attack any day now."

Patting him again – but thankfully much more lightly – Vince chuckled a little and then tightened his hand, letting the fingers need into Dean's shoulders in a touch that said more than any words could.

"Stephanie says you saved her life back there."

Dean shrugged a little,

"All part of the job."

Vince nodded briefly, his eyes sliding over to where his daughter was starting to slightly loosen up. Roman had brought over the new cup of coffee and both he and Seth were attempting to make her laugh. For a second it was almost like she hadn't been held hostage or that her crazy ex-husband wasn't lying dead up in her room.

It wasn't _like_ a family.

It fucking _was_ a family.

Complete with all the craziness and arguments as well.

"Look son," Vince sighed, drawing him back again but even the _son_ thing seemed alright now too, "Without you there things would have been a lot worse, maybe even – well – let's not think on that. But what I'm trying to say here is _thank you_ for being a damn good officer _and_ for being my daughter's friend."

Dean blinked.

"I – ,"

But Vince cut him off again, squeezing a little harder,

"Accept the compliment for once Ambrose, this time you've definitely earned it, alright?"

Dean nodded back, the gesture sort of halting but Vince took it anyway, slapped his collarbone then left. In a second he was crossing the floor back towards his daughter and throwing his arms around her in another loving hug.

In the silence Roman looked up then padded in Dean's direction, holding a second mug out,

"Coffee?"

"Oh thank god."

As they stood, Seth joined them, falling in easily because – frankly – that was where he had always belonged. Their presence on either side of him was instantly soothing as was the coffee which was good, strong and hot. From the folds of her father's jacket, Stephanie's eyes slid briefly up to him and she mouthed two words out.

 _Thank you._

He grinned, making an _okay_ sign with his fingers and winking back lazily.

 _Anytime boss, anytime._

* * *

 **Phew, told you that was long! Hope you're all still awake though!**

 **Next chapter I give Roman a much needed story of his own, inspired by his recent time away from television off sick. Did anyone order bickering Seth and Dean as nursemaids? No, well then I've got some very bad news...**


	3. Tender Loving Care

**Okay, so sometimes I feel that poor old Roman gets left out of things and god knows I missed him when he was off sick, so here is some Big Dog love inspired by that...but also with the usual levels of Dean feelings too. Hope you like…**

 **Wwe21, I can certainly try at least one of those things, got an idea brewing already in fact!**

 **Ninjoy, Aww *coyly bats hand* surely not perfection? That can't be right. Still, I'm super happy that you enjoyed it, I really liked the dynamics of that one too (including the Vince 'son' thing which I just figured was kinda cute!)**

 **Cherry619, Glad you liked looking at Steph's story a little closer, I kind of like to flesh everyone out. Now it's Roman turn (he's been super patient after all) so I hope you like delving into his character as well!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yeah, I figure that I pepper enough baddies into these stories to be able to take Hunter out of the game (no pun intended!) But now without any further ado here are Seth and Dean trying to make Roman feel better. I think they just about succeed!**

 **Cheryl24, Ohh, okay! Wow, too many Lukes! Funnily enough, he appears in the next chapter although (again) I don't think the Shield are going to want to help him much...still, I hope you enjoy his appearance all the same. In the meantime please accept some poorly Roman…**

 **Debwood-1999, I liked the whole coffin/vampire deal too. What can I say? Dean loves being mean to Steph but he won't let anyone else do it! As for the three-in-a-bed type thing? LOVE IT!**

 **Mandy, Super happy you enjoyed it and** _ **finally**_ **got your Dean/Steph friendship time. I know you'd been waiting patiently for it and that it didn't disappoint *does happy dance* Not sure when we'll see Steph again though, don't** _ **really**_ **want to take the focus too much off my boy.**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Funnily enough I have been thinking of doing a one-shot kinda like that, so I'll give it a go, although I might have to play with the brief just a little!**

 **Minnie1015, I pretty much imagine Lauren as** _ **her**_ **too, just because I have a sense of how they are together and I'm not a big fan of treading on 'real life' things. Don't worry she will always be mentioned somewhere and I'm thinking of a story maybe revolving around her family (the** _ **her**_ **family not Lauren's family...if that makes any sense?!)**

 **Skovko, You know what? Sasha is in another (but totally different) Dean story that I've just finished but haven't posted yet because I've already got enough stories on the go! You might have to wait next year for that one!**

 **Psion53, Yeah thought it was only fair to let Steph do the honors as some weird form of closure if nothing else, besides which she's not really the** _ **damsel type**_ **really. Naturally she would shoot him!**

 **Here's the Big Dog...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted:** **Tender Loving Care**

Roman had taken two days extra leave in order to make the most of his weekend and spend some decent time with his kids who he hadn't seen for several long months.

He called them often – sometimes twice daily, before and after school – but it wasn't the same thing and so he had decided to call in a couple of vacation days to show them he still loved them and to simply be _close._ Nothing compared to his kids – _nothing_ – and they clearly thought the same about him since the whole four day stretch had been filled up with cuddles and them clambering across him and wrestling with him and being _them_.

It had broken his heart to have to pack up and leave them and not for the first time the trip had seemed too short, not to mention the journey back home again had seemed _longer_. Suplex City was hours away from his children and although he had a life there and it was where he felt happy, he couldn't deny that the distance between them hurt.

In fact it hurt so bad he had briefly been wondering if the gulf to his kids was simply _too_ far. Whether or not it was worth not seeing them to be with his brothers and to have his dream job.

Was he being selfish?

Was he a bad father?

He had still been debating the more salient features the moment the sore throat had started to creep in. Beginning as nothing more than a scratchy sensation before somehow mutating during the night and transforming into something made out of switchblades or possibly razor wire.

 _Geez_ it hurt.

Nor did it help that his lymph nodes had swollen until even god damn _swallowing_ was a difficult ask. Worse still was his nose stuffing up in warped sympathy meaning breathing was either not at all or straight down his painful throat.

His limbs felt heavy and the muted daylight burnt him like some sort of vampire hidden in his crypt. The drapes were still shut but the brightness felt deadly and he let out a groan and buried his face into the pillow before sealing shut his whistling ears with the folds.

 _Crap._

The one thing he hadn't missed about his offspring.

Their ability to pick up and pass on the common cold.

He was hot and clammy but also damn _shivery_ and the bombardment made him grumpy and nauseous as well.

Throwing out a hand he groped along the nightstand for the cell phone he kept propped beside the photo of his kids. The viral infected angels who had landed him in the misery of fever and snot and feeling like shit.

Finding it he typed in a number with sweaty fingers and then held it to his ear until a voice answered,

" _Hey uce_."

"Dean? M' sick, not comin' in t' day."

There was a very brief pause and then a question,

" _For real? Because – I mean – you're like never sick. Constitution of a god damn horse, y' know_?"

Roman grumbled into his pillow and tried to fight down the growing tickle of a cough. Unfortunately however he failed in that mission and so Dean's only answer was a long peal of spluttering and then a little _gasping_ sort of a noise.

Which clearly worried the younger man,

" _Uce_?"

"M' alright,"

" _Yeah, because you sound it_."

Roman murmured back at him pitifully,

"M' sick Dean."

" _Pretty sure I heard you the first time big guy. Need me to come round there and bring you anythin_ '?"

Roman rolled over a little like a beached whale and blinked towards the ceiling while rubbing his achy face. He should probably have forced himself upright to fetch some water and a dose of gloopy medicine but suddenly the bathroom seemed too far away.

Not _far away_ like his children were far away but –

Still inexorably, impossibly far away.

"Nah, m' good, jus' need t' sleep it off a bit."

" _Y' sure uce_?"

" _Mmhmm_ , m' gonna be fine."

He meant it too because – after all – it was a _cold_ right? He hadn't suddenly come down with the plague. Lots of rest. That was always the ticket and so he hung up the phone and promptly fell right back to sleep. Not that slumber proved any more comforting since his dreams were twisted and feverish and weird. Mostly they seemed to be comprised of his children crying about him not being near and he felt the ache like a _physical_ pain which welled up within him and bloomed across his chest like some sort of bullet wound.

But Seth and Dean were there too.

Especially Dean who was in some sort of trouble and calling out to him sounding desperate.

"Roman – ,"

Wherever he was the bigger man was trying to get to him and frantic with worry.

He _had_ to save Dean.

Hands were on his shoulders pulling him back again and he fought them off angrily,

"No, gotta get t' Dean – ,"

The hands grew rougher and then started shaking him and a voice pierced the darkness,

"Take it easy uce, m' right here."

Sure enough – when Roman's eyes flew open – they were greeted by achingly familiar blue orbs, framed above a beard that _still_ really suited him and color-wise matched the scruffy copper hair. Dean was standing hovering above him, leant in across the mattress of Roman's king-sized bed. His were hands pinned to the larger man's elbows and there was a mask of worry painted over his face,

"Dean?"

"Yeah dude, it's me, you were dreamin' – _geez_ – you're at about a million degrees."

His teammate's hands dropped down onto his forehead and knuckles grazed his temples,

"Wha – why aren't you at work?"

Dean grunted back, moving suddenly into _action mode_ and stripping the covers clean back off the bed.

 _Crap_.

Roman hissed and spat out a cuss word at the unexpected shift although Dean ignored both, totally bypassing the violent jerky protest as he responded to the earlier question instead,

" _Been_ at work uce, look outta the window, it's almost evenin', you slept right through. Kinda freaked me out when you wouldn't answer the phone though. Not pickin' up on me _once_ is acceptable, maybe even twice but not every fuckin' time. Got kinda worried for a moment there – ya big lug – thought we'd better come over and check things out."

Roman blinked above his shivering,

" _We_?"

In response to him Dean glanced back across his shoulder and barked towards the bedroom door,

"Seth? How long does it take to get a glass of damn water?"

Another voice replied, sounding pissed almost as standard,

" _Geez_ man, calm down. I'm here, alright? Thought I'd bring some medicine and a bowl of chicken soup too. Give him something to wash it all down. If he hasn't moved then he won't have eaten either and he needs to keep his strength up so he can fight this thing off."

As Roman blinked in bewildered astonishment – still shivering because _no covers_ and he felt fiercely cold – Dean and Seth continued to bicker like they had been married from anywhere between two and twenty years.

"What about the fresh garlic I bought him?"

The unlikely question seemed to come from Dean although Seth screwed his face up in reply and snorted back at him, looking horrified,

"I'm not givin' him that man."

"Why not?" Dean argued, "Everyone knows it good for ya, it'll help him."

"Sick or not, eating raw garlic is insane."

"It's what they do in Poland."

Seth blinked,

"How do _you_ know that?"

Dean shrugged in return, vague-sounding,

"Documentary?"

"Okay then, in that case I change my answer – the whole of _Poland_ is damn well insane."

Throughout it all Roman lay back watching, head bouncing side to side like he was following a tennis match. There was something chaotically reassuring about their presence – mainly because he felt like death warmed right up – but ideally he would have preferred them less _shouty_ and so to that end he winced and raised a shaky hand up,

"Uh – guys?"

They both turned back to look at him instantly and Seth's expression softened,

"Hey, how you feeling man?"

"Be a lot better if you two weren't yellin',"

His hand crept down as he eyed them both wearily, curling surreptitiously around the seam of his comforter and then slowly trying to drag it back up. Dean reached in and slapped the hand down again, before pointing a warning finger at him and looking stern,

"No. _Bad Roman_. You're burnin' up."

The bigger man grumbled, gazing back with dissention and huffing at his teammate-come-brother,

"M' not, m' cold."

"Really?" Dean snorted, crossing his arms over and raising an eyebrow, "Y' think you're cold, huh?"

Roman nodded back and threw in a shiver,

"Hell yes."

"Well then care to put your money where your mouth is? Seth, where's the thermometer?"

"How am I supposed to know? I'm not your damn maid. Try the kitchen where everything else is."

Dean turned and scuttled off still calling out to them,

" _Ha_ , you wait."

In the silence he left behind him – or, well, _semi-silence_ since they could still hear him muttering to himself from down the hall – Seth put down the tray he had been carrying and brought across a glass of water,

"Here, drink somethin' dude."

Bracing a hand behind his friend's back, he helped Roman haul himself up into a sit which screwed with the bigger man's head pretty badly and he groaned as all the mucus started to painfully shift. At what point had his head been replaced by a bowling ball? He couldn't remember but clearly it had and it took him a few seconds of blinking and adjusting before he could take the glass in a vaguely steady hand.

The water was cool and helped soothe his throat instantly and also made him realize how thirsty he'd been. What it didn't help however was the continuing sense of iciness and as the cold stream of liquid flowed in through his system it made him violently shiver some more.

Seth checked his head,

"Yeah, sorry, Dean's right man."

Roman merely grunted and then lay heavily back down, hating being wrong in general situations but the aching and the nausea and all the phlegm making it worse.

Dean came striding back in beaming broadly and clutching a long, thin instrument in one hand. It was glass like the thermometer his mother had used throughout his childhood only it _also_ had a curious sort of curve at one end and Roman was still trying to work out what it might be used for when the copper blonde stopped by his bed,

"Open up."

For a moment Roman debated defying him but then realized he would come across like a kid. His own children had often refused to let him help them when they had been ill and it was a pretty annoying thing. Besides which – or possibly vitally importantly – he was _not_ a seven year old boy and so instead he huffed and rolled his eyes mildly but managed a word of acceptance,

" _Fine_."

Opening his mouth he let Dean slide in the instrument before capturing the uncomfortable tube beneath his tongue. It dug against his gums and made him wince slightly but it was better to get the thing over and done.

From where he was stood across the room measuring out medicine, Seth watched the process happen with a blink, wearing an expression of total confusion which he turned towards Dean,

"Why the hell does it look like that?"

Dean turned back to grin at him chirpily and waved an airy hand,

"Oh _that_. It's because it's an anal one."

As a wave of shock and revulsion ran through him, Roman tried to spit it out again – making noises of panic and rebellion – although Dean caught the tube and held it firm.

He was laughing at him,

"I'm _kiddin'_ alright man? Totally kiddin' here."

Roman spoke around the glass,

"You're an asshole."

"Yes I am but – I mean – that's why you love me, right?"

"Not at the moment."

But Dean grinned back anyway before leaning in to peer at the rapidly rising dial. He waited a few more seconds then checked it against his wristwatch before reaching out and gently taking it away.

"Told you, one hundred and one dude, _look_."

Triumphantly Dean turned the thermometer towards him with an actual god damn beam on his face. On seeing Roman's expression it swiftly died off again but even _his_ groggy eyes could see the copper blonde was right.

One hundred and one degrees.

Well look at that.

Perhaps he _did_ have a fever after all?

Not that it stopped him from grumbling in response to it and wrapping his arms around his still cold frame.

"Damn piece of crap is probably broken."

"Hey, I'll have you know I bought that in good faith."

"Where the hell _from_?" Seth frowned, slipping between them and handing a cup of medicine across. It looked gloopy and fluorescent which didn't inspire confidence but Roman knew it would be far worse to turn it down. Not in terms of the temperature either but in Seth and Dean nagging him like yappy dogs with bones.

Even so it tasted like ass.

Eye-watering, retch-inducing, shudder-creating _ass_.

Thankfully Seth followed it up with more water and Roman glugged it down to purge the taste as Dean replied,

"Flea market but _like_ from a proper antiques guy, he told me all about it."

Seth snorted,

"I _bet_ he did."

In response to the snub Roman grunted in amusement but the noise got caught on the phlegm in his throat and turned into a long and drawn out burst of coughing which was hacked and bubbly and staccato and _raw_. Seth's hands came down and rubbed at his back as he gasped and spluttered but they didn't do a lot of good and from somewhere in the background he heard Dean call him but his voice sounded worried and almost hushed with concern,

"Uce?"

In fact it reminded Roman of his children in that it carried the same uncertainty and fear and it forced him to regain control of his breathing and shudder groggy words out,

"M' – m' alright now."

"You sure big guy?"

Roman hacked again,

"Yeah."

Neither of his teammates seemed terribly convinced by it but in _their_ world pretending to be fine when you weren't was sort of as normal and day-to-day as breathing and so Seth merely sighed and rolled his eyes,

"Of course. Hang in there man, I'll go get you that soup, alright? You must be kinda hungry."

Roman screwed up his face.

 _Was_ he hungry?

If he was honest then not really but it was probably a good idea to eat something anyway. Besides which, much like the thermometer and the medicine and the _fussing_ it was simpler to surrender than try to disagree. He could _smell_ the chicken wafting in already and it made his stomach growl a little bit,

"Sounds good."

As Seth bustled out Dean came in again closer and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Roman was only in a t-shirt and boxers and so Dean's denim covered thigh pressed up against his bare leg. It was warm and so Roman surreptitiously leant into it, trying to draw the heat out.

He was still so damn _cold_.

But Dean however was a million troubled miles away and reaching out he picked something up from beside the bed.

"These guys were the germ factory that landed you here m' guessin'?"

"Huh?" Roman blinked before realizing, "Oh, yeah."

Dean was holding up the picture of his children, who at some point had all been corralled together for a shot. They were smiling with his daughter's head tipped to one side shyly and all gap-toothed and looking cute in her Sunday best. Even his sons were in a rare moment of peacefulness and not competing over something or beating each other up. Roman was behind them, his arms around all of them as he stooped towards the camera, ever the proud dad. The snapshot had been taken at his ex-wife's sister's wedding and right in the weeks before they had broken up. It was strange to think about how different things had been then and how different _he_ had been.

Dean snapped his fingers,

"Hey uce, you alright in there?"

Roman blinked mildly,

"Sorry, just _thinking_ , you know?"

Dean grinned,

"Not really,"

Roman rolled his eyes at him and fought another cough down,

"No, probably not. I just – I guess I just miss 'em so damn much."

His teammate nodded,

"Yeah, must be pretty hard."

"Especially when I get back from having spent time with them. Feels like I'm abandoning them."

Dean snorted in reply and the noise was so shot-through with sudden bitterness that it stopped Roman dead in bewildered surprise. Dean's face was cast down and he was staring at the photo but not really _seeing_ it.

He was somewhere else instead.

It took a few seconds but he finally revealed where, laughing almost wryly,

"You're not _abandonin'_ them uce. Wanna see abandonment? Hell, you should meet _my_ dad. Which you could if I had the first idea where he lived. Skipped out on me when I was _like_ six or seven and never seen or heard from him since. He could be livin' it up on a tropical island or in a shallow grave somewhere and I'll probably never know. _That's_ abandonment man and you'd never do that. Least you call your rugrats and talk to 'em and go down to visit 'em whenever you can. Might not be as much as you want but it's _somethin'_ and the older they get the more that's gonna count."

Silence followed the sentence for a second during which time Dean just continued to stare down. Roman watched him do it, his heart breaking a little because –

 _Jesus Christ._

Dean had been through _so_ much.

Far more than a regular person should have to go through although – that was the thing – he _wasn't_ normal and couldn't be. But that was a good thing because Dean Ambrose was different and those quirky traits were what made him so _him_. He was a chaotic, childlike, _tough_ mother fucker and frankly neither Seth nor Roman would have had him any other way. He was their brother and they loved him regardless.

Even if nobody in his real family did.

Usually on the back of such revelations, Roman would have drawn him into a hug but lying prone on the mattress and covered in fever sweat he didn't think his teammate would really be keen. Instead however he put a clammy hand out and wound it in around his friend's wrist, drawing the haunted blue eyes in his direction and coughing out a sentence,

"Hey, I'm sorry babe."

Dean shrugged back, like the whole thing didn't matter or like he hadn't just poured out his heart in one big breath,

"Doesn't matter."

Roman squeezed a little tighter, his eyes boring deeper,

"Yes it does, _you_ matter uce."

Again Roman shivered as his fevered body failed him and seeing it, Dean reached towards his forehead and tested the heat with one hand. He left it there briefly and then smirked a little before reaching towards the covers,

"Good news, you're coolin' down."

The reapplication of the bed clothes was like heaven and in response to the warmth of them Roman exhaled a blissful moan.

" _Mmmm_ – ,"

"Easy dude," Dean snorted in amusement, "Seth hears that he'll wonder what's goin' on."

"Let him, don't care."

"Wow, you really _must_ be sick."

He was still chuckling mildly as he set the photo frame back down, returning it to its spot beside Roman's alarm clock and then angling it so that the kids were broadly grinning out. His reflection hit the glass and superimposed him into it which made Roman blink suddenly.

 _Family._

"They miss you uce."

"Huh," Dean blinked, "Who misses me?"

"My so-called _rugrats_."

There was a slight pause,

"They do?"

"Sure," Roman nodded, "I mean, you're their _Uncle Deano_ – the man, the myth, the legend."

That much was true.

Roman's daughter in particular had a _brace_ of Dean stories about the things she remembered or the crazy shit he used to do. Because Dean was just one of those people on kids' wavelengths. Who _got_ what it was to roleplay and let go. He had never had qualms – like literally _ever_ – about getting down on their level and playing princesses or dressing-up. In fact, Roman had once come across Dean at a barbecue scrunched in the playhouse with his knees up round his nose, wearing a tiara and sipping tea from plastic crockery surrounded by dolls and Roman's grinning daughter too.

The same grinning daughter who _still_ asked him regularly if Dean would come over and visit them soon, which – for the most part – Roman sort of palmed her off about but would no longer have to since summer vacation was just a month off.

Two weeks.

A whole fourteen days with his children back in Suplex City and spending time with Seth and Dean. His brothers and his beautiful babies all together having fun and making memories.

Like a proper family.

The weight and depth of his thinking made him cough again – or maybe he had simply been coughing all along – and Dean reached out and passed the water glass across again to help soothe the scratching,

Roman grinned at him,

"Thanks man."

Dean however wasn't paying much attention because while Roman had been thinking, it seemed _he_ had been as well, which suddenly became apparent as he scratched his neck awkwardly and cleared his throat a little bit,

"Hey uce? Can you just – can you just promise me one thing?"

Roman blinked,

"Sure."

"Can you promise you won't – like – _leave m_ e again? Because I know I got through it before an' everythin' but I don't think I'd be able to do it all again. An' I know it's maybe selfish of me to ask ya because I'm not one of your kids an' we're not related an' shit like that but – damn it – I fuckin' _need_ you, can't do this without you, _either_ of you two and so if you decided to go back – ,"

He stopped and made a kind of an _ah_ sound as everything became overwhelmed in his mind, accompanying the noise by waving his hand around like he was somehow trying to clear the fluff from his head. He was literally a breath away from saying _forget it_ and pretending that nothing had ever gone down and so Roman moved a blanket-covered knee across and nudged him – probably a little too hard – in the butt,

"Hey, I'm not leaving you."

"But your kids – ,"

"They know I love 'em. It's just hard sometimes being so far away. Besides, I _tried_ being there for a whole year and I just wasn't happy. I couldn't make a life there. Missed _your_ ugly face too much."

Dean snorted,

"M' beautiful, like a fluffy baby bunny."

Roman grinned but then fell serious,

"I mean it man I'm staying here, for good, you ain't getting rid of me this time."

Dean nodded and let his gaze drop but with a little half-smile and in the moment that was more than enough for Roman and more than enough to know he'd made the right choice. He loved his kids of course – more than _life_ – but they needed a father who was happy in himself. The year he had spent in Florida had been miserable and as astute as they were they had known he wasn't himself. He hadn't wanted to play so much with them and read them stories. He hadn't been a good dad. Nor had he been a good husband or brother but on returning to Suplex everything had just _clicked_. It hadn't been easy getting back in Dean's good graces or making their familial threesome tick again but they'd done it and possibly more than god damn _anything_ that made Roman feel stupidly proud.

Proud and hungry.

Although luckily on that note Seth came back in again balancing the tray and a steaming bowl of soup. The smell of it was glorious – all thick and wholesome – and so as Dean fluffed his pillows and made them into back supports, Roman practically _sprang_ upright again. Or, okay, he _didn't_ since it was more of a shuffle and perforated by coughing, spluttering and groans but he did it regardless and was rewarded by sustenance which almost scalded the phlegm off his tonsils and sent a strong blast of warmth right the way through his bones.

"Good right?" Seth asked, dropping into the armchair which Roman usually threw his clothes at in one corner of the room. Dean leant in and smelt the concoction before raising his eyebrows,

"Did _you_ make this?"

"Sure did, old family recipe passed down from my grandma, always keep a vat of it frozen just in case."

"Flowers and soups," Dean whistled, "Real manly."

"Because _you_ punch bears in your spare time for fun?"

Dean looked aghast,

"I could never punch Yogi. What the hell's wrong with you? Too far man, too far."

As Roman continued to inhale the brothy offering – trying to avoid drips with his still shaking hand – he grinned at the teasing and shook his head fondly, feeling better already.

Maybe it was the soup?

Or maybe it was the vomit-worthy medicine?

Or maybe – just _maybe_ – it was all down to them.

Seth had also added a couple of plain crackers and he dunked them in the soup so that they wouldn't hurt his throat, appreciating eating something with substance and only barely paying attention as Dean flicked on the TV.

"Cartoons, that's what you need dude."

Seth sighed,

"He isn't ten Dean."

"C' mon, everybody _loves_ cartoons."

Within seconds he was flicking almost gleefully through the channels and not for the first time Roman was glad he had kids. Because Dean and kids had one thing in common and that was a love of hand-animated light fun.

"What about a movie," Seth offered out briskly in decidedly no-nonsense, _find one_ tones.

"Like what?"

Seth shrugged, heaving out of the armchair and collecting the tray as Roman swallowed the last mouthful down,

"I don't know, why not ask the invalid. You all finished man?"

Roman nodded,

"Yeah, thanks, that was great."

He meant it too, he felt happy but also tired as warm chicken broth sloshed about through his veins. Seth smirked back at him proudly at the compliment and wandered off into the kitchen to tidy things away. Dean meanwhile was still bothering the controller and channel-hopping with such ferocity that Roman's eyes began to spin.

To make it easier he closed them for a moment and then startled as Dean tapped his leg,

"Hey, what do you want?"

"My health?"

Dean rolled his eyes,

"Very funny, I meant what _movie_ dude? Comedy, action, horror, _romance_?"

He said the last word with an elaborate brow wiggle that made Roman snort and then promptly cough. Instantly Dean was right there with the water and looking guilty about having brought on the sudden fit. Roman took a long cool sip then waved a hand at him, smiling fondly at the idiot,

"You choose uce. I don't mind."

"Comedy it is then," Dean nodded firmly, returning the water glass to the nightstand with a thump, "I mean, they say that laughter is kinda the best medicine. Wanna test out some science?"

Roman shrugged,

"Sure, why not?"

Once again though his eyelids shut slowly – it felt like they were being pulled down by hooks – but they fluttered back to life as Dean slapped his thigh roughly and then shunted himself fully onto the bed.

"C' mon uce, move over."

Roman grumbled in protest but was moving even as he let out the noise, shuffling as far as his achy body would allow him and then flopping back onto the pillows again. Unfortunately moving over meant he was back on cool sheeting and despite Seth's hot broth, he shivered and hissed. Dean replied quickly by pulling up the covers and this time tucking them in right around the neck. The warmth enveloped Roman and he sighed in thankfulness and then dropped his head and once more closed his eyes.

That was nice.

When Seth came padding back in a minute later, Roman was already on the fringes of sleep although he still had enough sense to grunt in his direction when he heard the worried tones,

"Hey, is he alright?"

Dean nodded,

"Yeah, just needs to sleep it off a bit."

There was a pause and then the sound of screeching brakes from the TV as whatever spurious movie they were watching moved into a higher gear. From beside him Dean snorted in obvious amusement and in response to it the mattress lightly bounced up and down but Seth seemed a little less impressed by the choice as his next sentence made obvious,

"This is what you picked?"

"No, I asked uce, this is what _he_ picked."

"Yeah," Seth retorted deadpan, "I can see it's his favorite film."

Roman turned his face even further into the pillow and disguised a tiny bubble of laughter in a sigh. His whole sense of awareness was beginning to fade around him but it was warm and comforting and so he didn't mind too much. Besides which his brothers were safe there with him and bickering and so – in that sense – all was right with the world.

He drifted off to sleep with Dean's laughter shaking the mattress and the sound of Seth's grumbling ringing in his ears.

 _Family._

He wasn't really sure how long he must have slept for but when he woke up again the world outside lay pitch black and the same went for every last corner of his bedroom with the exception of a pale but very clear stream of light.

Huh?

Rolling over Roman squinted with a groan at the flat screen which was still flickering brightly with the sound turned down low. For a minute he couldn't remember why it was functioning or what he had been watching but it soon came flooding back.

 _Right, Dean._

Although that in itself begged the question _where was Dean_ which made him roll further fully onto his back. His hand swiped his face and rubbed at his eyeballs then fell back onto the mattress –

Where it hit something else.

"What the – ," Roman spun his head round towards it and then blinked as he came face-to-face with his missing friend, so wasn't so much _missing_ as crashed out beside him, face-down on the sheets with his hair across his face. He was fast asleep and snoring very, very softly so that his lips made an inadvertent but pretty cute sounding _squeak_ and Roman bit back a snort of amusement and shook his head against the pillow.

 _Looking comfy there uce._

Turning his gaze back towards the television, Roman narrowed his eyes hoping to find the second form which he did beneath the ever glowing beam of pixels, crashed out in the armchair with his feet propped on the bed.

Seth too was out for the count and slumped downwards, with his fingers clenched together tightly over his chest. Evidently being nursemaids had taken it out of both of them and it made Roman grin against the darkness as he watched.

His little brothers, taking the time to look after him.

Sometimes Roman Reigns was a very lucky man.

Reaching out he took the remote from Dean's fingers which were still curled around it almost possessively and turned off the screen, plunging the room back into murkiness although he could still pick out details from the light of the moon.

Settling back down further against the pillows, Roman let out a deeply contented sigh, pleased to feel the heavy mucus-blockade lessening and noting that the headache and grogginess had lifted too.

"Nuh, _mmmm_ – ,"

As Dean let out a rough little mumble, Roman lightly tousled a hand through the copper hair and then turned back round, pulling the covers across his shoulders as he was once again hit by a strong urge to sleep.

His eyes drifted shut and he let them almost gratefully, feeling more relaxed and on-the-mend and content. How could he not be surrounded by his family?

Surrounded by Seth and Dean.

His _other_ two kids.

* * *

 **Nice fluffy little story for you all there, although plenty of Dean feels as ever, what can I say? He's my main man.**

 **Got a ton of ideas and requests to work through (thank you everyone) so I'm going to have to stop taking them for a bit now before I end up swimming in the things! Plus there are some other non-AU Dean things I want to work on but I'll open requests up again at some point!**

 **Next week, Seth meets some old buddies from prison, although I** _ **say**_ **buddies...**


	4. Bigger Brothers Of America

**Right, so this one is for all of the many people who wanted to see Seth being the one dealing with issues for once (although Dean is still the main character because...well, do I even need to say?!)**

 **Mandy, As ever my lovely you're entirely welcome and I'm just glad you enjoyed it so much. Yeah, it was a real bummer about Roman just when The Shield were picking up steam again but at least I could use it to my advantage in a fic!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, It was actually nice just to write a fluffy little piece for them, don't get to do a lot of that in this universe but definitely want to do it more! Glad you enjoyed the humour in this one. Kind of got to go wild with it!**

 **Ninjoy, I always kind of figure that with Roman being a father and all that he is probably more emotionally mature/eloquent than the other two, so he and Dean can be all cute and touchy feely while Seth and Dean merely bicker to show their familial love!**

 **Wwe21, Well, if you were looking for a side-order of protective Dean and Roman then look no further than this installment! Also glad you love when Seth and Dean poke at each other. The cornerstone of brotherly love (plus a whole lot of fun to write!)**

 **Debwood-1999, Snap! I'm getting over a cold too which just keeps lingering on and is** _ **ugh**_ **. Actually had to have a day off work and everything (which never happens) so I also feel Roman's pain! And as for Seth's 'buddies'...well...no, no they're not, as you will see!**

 **Ladyjade37, Hey there! So glad you're enjoying them as much as I'm enjoying writing them. Stay tuned because there are a lot more to come!**

 **Cherry619, Yeah, poor Roman, I figure that for as often as Seth and Dean are like brothers, they are probably like annoying children at times as well! Glad you enjoyed the fluffiness in that one. It was actually really nice to write!**

 **Skovko, Don't worry, no more requests** _ **at the moment**_ **, the beauty of this compendium is that I can easily pick it up again and when I do yours will be the first I come to! Pinky promise!**

 **Minnie1015, Both Deans** _ **are**_ **gorgeous but Ambrose just pips it for me. Plus the brotherhood aspect. I always think male friendships are so much more intriguing than romantic relationships or blood relative ones. Probably why I can't get enough of the Shield boys!**

 **Psion53, Yeah, poor Roman always looking after everyone else, I thought it was about time he had the guys fuss over him. He deserves a bit of brotherly love too!**

 **Rebel8954, Good news! This one has a decidedly Seth focus and I'm just about to write another one with a Seth slant which will be coming in a few weeks so watch out for that!**

 **Okay then, so, who wants to meet some of Seth's** _ **friends**_ **?**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Bigger Brothers of America**

The fact that Swiss Tony's was closed for renovation had thrown them into a bit of a spin. Not that there wasn't anywhere else to go drinking – in Suplex there was a bar almost every other step – but there wasn't really anywhere else they _liked_ drinking.

It was a pitiful, sorry state of affairs.

"What was wrong with how it looked?" Dean ground out sullenly, idly spinning his beer mat around, "I liked it the way it was – didn't need changin'."

Roman shrugged,

"Cesaro said it _looked_ _old_."

Beside him Seth snorted, dropping a napkin to the table top and using it to blanket a sticky mess he hadn't made. Beer he hoped but in the bar they'd ended up in it didn't seem right or very wise to assume it was.

"Place has only been open five minutes."

Dean raised a brow at him,

"Try five _years_."

"Really?" Seth blinked, "Wow, guess I must have missed that."

It was obvious why.

It had been while he was inside.

Luckily the need for him to say as much was long gone and for the most part they didn't mention or even _bring up_ his jail time. Which wasn't necessarily something that he had asked for but had become more of an unwritten _Shield Brothers_ rule.

Not that he minded.

In fact he was grateful.

His imprisonment had by no means been the happiest of times.

As the beer mat spun dizzily out of Dean's fingers and careered away across the damp sticky floor, Roman frowned a little like a parent and pulled a face at him,

"Hey, stop messing around."

"Can't help it," Dean shrugged back, shoulders moving jerkily, "Don't like it here uce."

"Why not?"

"Just don't."

His blue eyes dropped down rapidly beneath the scrutiny and turned to study the label of his beer. Dean more than any of them hated things changing and probably had a valid reason for the fear. Whenever things had transformed in his universe it had always but _always_ been a nuclear affair. From family breakdowns and dysfunctional relationships to the destruction of their team the first time around and that was _before_ they even touched on his fiancée.

The ever present, eternally missed _her_.

Little wonder therefore that something simple like a watering hole would send him straight into a grumbling slump. Dean _liked_ Swiss Tony's – they had a table there and everything – so the replacement they had chosen would just never match up.

"Come on man," Seth implored, spreading his hands a little, "It's only going to be shut two weeks."

"It's been two _days_ and I already hate it."

"At least _try_ and relax – you're acting like a kid."

In response to the criticism Dean's arms folded huffily and he glowered in affront from underneath his bangs,

"Am not."

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Yeah sure, not at all man."

Roman however merely chuckled at the aside and shook his head fondly at the copper blonde's dissention which was rolling down from his shoulders in waves. Dean was _not_ a happy bunny and it was their job as brothers to get him out of his funk.

"Did you hear about the scarecrow that won an award?"

There was silence as both Seth _and_ Dean blinked back at him, the younger man frowning in bewilderment,

"Uh, _no_?"

"Yeah," Roman nodded, suddenly grinning broadly, "Apparently he was _out standing_ in his field."

There was a long, loud groan from Dean and then a facepalm,

"Dude – ,"

"What? It was funny."

"If you're a _dad_."

Roman blinked,

"I _am_ a dad."

Dean threw his hands skywards before gesturing emphatically between himself and Seth,

"Well the two of us ain't popped out any sprogs yet, hence the _no laughing_ thing you're seein' here."

Clearly Seth agreed,

"Yeah, what the hell was _that_ man?"

But Roman was still happy and if anything their rebellion actually managed to _widen_ his grin. Whatever mood the two of them wanted to be in was still and always _would_ be more than fine by him. Frankly all that mattered was the three of them together and whether that was cheery or pissed made no mind and so slapping his broad hands loudly on the table, he looked across the woodwork,

"I'm going to take a leak, your turn to get the beers in this time."

Dean glared back at him,

"You're serious, we're _stayin'_ here?"

"For as long as it takes me to get my second beer uce."

" _Then_ we can go?"

Roman grinned at him,

"Yep."

" _Fine_."

In the blink of an eye Dean was throwing his chair back and stalking across the tacky hardwood floor. He was grumbling as he went – to himself for the most part – about good drinking establishments and the decline of the humble bar.

 _Cheers._

What happened to bars like that place?

Where everybody knew your name?

Swiss Tony's had been like that but thanks to its revamp, he strongly doubted it ever would again. He'd like that place because it had been comfortable and just fancy enough to keep low-lives out. But at the same time low-key enough to not make it stuffy and even on busy days it had seemed chilled out and calm. Cesaro had shown them his plans for refurbishment and Dean had not been very happy to say the _least_.

A fire pit?

A _fish tank_?

A black leather lounge room?

How the fuck was he supposed to fit in _there_?

Dean had always been a man of simple pleasures and a nice quiet beer was the most he would ask. What he did _not_ want was to be surrounded by business types or vicious gangs of women getting drunk the whole night.

His mood was foul and his tongue even sharper.

Woe betide anyone who got in his way.

Arriving at the bar and squeezing through the patrons – who were mostly leather clad and dripping with gold chain – Dean ordered three of the cheapest beers in their cellars and then stood with his wallet waiting to pay. The sooner they drank the sooner they could get out of there and either find somewhere better or else head back to his place. It was a Friday and their weekend _not_ to hit the mean streets and so if the guys decided to crash with him then they could. After all, his apartment was not only central but it also had a guest bedroom too, still decked out in the pastel colored florals that _she_ had picked out to satisfy her mom.

Not that _her_ parents ever came to visit now since – for obvious reasons – there was no one left to see. They still kept in touch with him in cards and in letters but they didn't have much in common and quite frankly never had.

 _She_ had been the one thing that had bound them and without her the link had just slowly broken down. He still had the guest room though – for Seth and Roman – flowered walls and all.

That wasn't going to change.

He also had a couch for whoever lost out on _shotgun_ and having slept on it himself once or twice when he was drunk, he knew for a fact it made a pretty decent bedroll for a drink-addled and _unable to make it home_ kind of soul.

"Here."

Three beers were dropped down in front of him with an unceremonious and obvious lack of flare. Fortunately rather than comment on its arrival, Dean merely smiled back thinly.

"Thanks man."

On turning back towards their table however – juggling the bottles which were still slick with dew – the first thing Dean saw was a towering figure looming in across the woodwork.

Then he saw Seth.

The younger man was still in his seat – where Dean had left him – but the look on his face had totally changed. Instead of looking casual, or bored on even antsy his skin had gone white and he had stiffened up a bit. His whole body sat ramrod straight against the chair struts and his eyes flickered nervously and seemed to sweep the ground. Whoever the guy was Seth seemed frightened to look at him and that made Dean pause in alarm.

What the hell?

Seth seeming anything _other_ than bullish was instinctively unsettling and biologically wrong which was why Dean was moving before he even fully noticed it and crossing the space at a borderline run.

"Who the fuck are you?"

His appearance was forthright although in shunting past the visitor he noticed Seth look up and _sigh._ Not in annoyance or exasperation either but in a full-on bodily admission of relief. It exactly didn't make Dean any easier and his brain screamed loudly,

 _All wrong, all wrong._

Putting down the beers, he chose to remain standing, turning casually back round again and glaring at the man. He was shorter than him by a couple of inches and so Dean felt he hand the natural upper hand although frankly it was all another part of the mystery as to why Seth was so fucking jittery and freaked.

The new guy was bald with fierce little eyeballs that blinked up at him from beneath a heavy brow. There was facial hair though so the dude wasn't hairless and in fact his beard had an impressive dark brown hold, sweeping above his top lip and down his along cheekbones before meeting at his chin.

 _All wrong, all wrong._

He stared back at Dean for an unflinching second and then something seemed to flicker in his eyes. Within a flash his glare had faded into nothingness and he smiled almost warmly.

But it was false.

Very false.

"Easy now, I didn't come to cause trouble."

Dean continued frowning,

"That wasn't what I asked."

The new man smirked a little in response to him and wet his lips slowly,

"Me and Rollins here were _catching up_."

"On what?" Dean snorted, "You use the same hairdresser? Because – y' know – I kinda doubt that."

As he spoke he waved a hand over his own hair while lifting his brows at what the other man lacked. There was a very, _very_ brief flicker of anger and the false smile returned with a glimmer of a twitch. Instead of reply to Dean however the answer was shot in the direction of Seth.

"This guy a friend of yours? He's funny."

Dean's gaze narrowed,

"M' not even warmed up yet."

The tension between them was growing exponentially and there seemed a real danger that the thing might explode. But then a hand caught Dean's wrist and tugged on it in warning,

"Hey man, stop alright? Chill out."

The voice belonged to Seth but it was more hushed than usual and suddenly Dean was sick of the suspense. Shaking himself free he turned to his teammate and then pointed between them,

"Wanna tell me who this is and why the hell you're so riled?"

Seth avoided eye contact,

"He's nobody."

"Alright."

Despite the word and its regular meaning Dean's wry tone implied that things were not _alright_ although as Seth let out a sigh of frustration the newcomer snorted,

"Now that's not very nice."

"Stay out of it," Seth snapped back at him hotly before gritting his teeth at having lashed out.

"Temper, temper."

Dean felt his fists curl and was about to retort when Seth bit a name out.

"Anderson."

"What?"

"His name is Karl Anderson."

The newcomer smirked,

"So you _didn't_ forget?"

The younger man glared back at him darkly and it startled Dean a little because –

Seth wasn't _Seth_.

The Rollins that he knew was barely ever silent and when he was pumped he could barely keep still. He was the literal definition of _ants in your pants_ energy and chirped like a parakeet all day through. In essence he was basically a god damn force of nature or a tightly coiled spring always waiting to go. Yet there he was sitting stormy and near-frozen and it was weird and unsettling.

 _All wrong, all wrong._

Unfortunately however instead of being thrown by it, the newcomer _Anderson_ found it funny as hell, chuckling like someone had reminded him of something and actually wryly shaking his head.

"Your buddy Seth and I were locked up together."

A shiver rippled through him.

 _Now_ Dean understood.

Seth's eyes drifted up to meet his slowly and a look passed between them that didn't require words. When Dean had been recovering back in the hospital after nearly getting his kidneys chopped out, Seth had told he and Roman almost everything about the two years he had spent in the clink.

He had told them about having to always watch out for shit.

He had told them about the threats for having been a cop.

He had told them about the times that inmates had jumped him and the times he had been forced to stand tall and defend himself.

Seth could talk up a fight like a champion and mouth off and shout and yell all day long and he could also use his fists on the occasions he needed to and use them to good effect.

But that wasn't who he was.

Much like Dean did, Seth needed to be a part of things, he _needed_ to be attached to a wider type of group. He needed a team to back him up and guard him and yet while he'd been in jail he'd had none of that.

 _None._

His own fault of course but now that they were brothers, Dean couldn't help how much the knowledge _hurt_. He would have done _anything_ to get even with Seth's tormentors although suddenly like a gift – evidently – there one was.

He smiled,

"That so?"

Anderson smirked idly,

"Might wanna watch out – you know he fractured some guys' _head_?"

As Seth straight up winced, Dean's smile widened.

The sentence was beautiful.

"I know, that was me."

For a second _Asswipe Anderson_ simply blinked back at him with an idiotic look stamped over his face. Clearly he assumed that Dean was just kidding but at his unflinching glare the mirth dropped away. Instead it was replaced by a sudden air of caution or maybe total bafflement or possibly both. The sharp eyes narrowed and appraised Dean uncertainly before spitting out a sentence,

"You're shitting me, right?"

"Nope," Dean shook his head, lifting a fist up and banging his cranium, "Took it right here."

"So why the fuck are you sitting having drinks with him?"

Dean shrugged,

"He's my brother and I had a cravin' for beer."

Anderson snorted but it wasn't from amusement and he turned back with a disparaging glare,

"You're a god damn lunatic."

Dean stepped in again, his blue eyes flashing with an angry sort of thrill,

"Well, wouldn't be the first time I've had _that_ line thrown at me. Seem to get it a lot, y' know? Along with this – like – _rage_ that bubbles up in me when assholes decide they can fuck with my bro. So what it comes down to at this point is two choices and I'm gonna give you the options nice and slow. You can walk away and pretend this never happened and _I'll_ pretend you never darkened our door. _Or_ you can stay and the two of us can rumble and I'll show you how much of a lunatic I _really_ am."

Seth gaped back and that alone was worth it because within the astonishment was also raw _pride_.

Pride that Dean had stepped in to defend him.

Pride that Dean had called him his _bro_.

They had all of them grown used to people not being there but in repairing their relationship that security returned. They weren't alone now, they were part of something bigger and that meant being there to pick up the slack. Seth and Roman had been especially good at it and especially good at taking care of his ass. So in the scheme of things Dean was more than happy to give back to them and he was more than _ready_ to do it as well.

Plus –

It was _Seth_.

It was his _little brother_ and so no one could rag on the guy but him.

Not that Anderson had read through that memo _or_ the one about leaving them alone because as Dean watched him closely the expression became stormy and tight with a fury that almost lit up the room. He growled at Dean and then threw a sudden fist out and before anyone could move he had Dean's collar gripped tight, using it to drag the taller man towards him until they were standing on the floor tiles pressed almost snout to snout.

" _Hey_ – ," Seth barked in alarm, "Anderson, that's enough man, just let him go."

He stood up so quickly that his chair skittered backwards, scraping an uneven path across the floor. It caught a loose tile and then tumbled down earthwards before hitting the ground with an audible thud.

 _Crack_.

A few heads looked up but they were largely disaffected in the way that the clientele of dive bars often were and so luckily their audience was sort of on the _small side_ as Seth stepped up close and tried his best to prize Dean back.

Anderson's grip however was vice-like and so the fingers stayed firm and unflinchingly wrapped.

"What? You gonna make me Rollins?"

"If I have to."

But Seth's voice was devoid of its usual fight and instead the sharp tones seemed muted and dispirited which lifted Dean's hackles because it _shouldn't_ have been a thing.

"Come on then tough guy, where you at? I'm waiting."

Dean twisted ever so slightly in the grip, curling his fists and baring his teeth wolf-like as Anderson continued to needle and goad. He was literally a second from punching the guy repeatedly when Seth reached over and pushed his knuckles down.

"Don't."

"What's the matter Rollins?" Anderson crowed at him, "Still a fucking pussy _huh_?"

That was it.

No waiting, no pulling.

Dean reeled back and threw the damn punch.

A good one too with plenty of power as he swung his shoulder into it like he had stepped up to bat. His fist arced through the air propelled by his muscle mass and collided with a cheekbone in a hefty blow.

" _Fuck_ – ,"

Anderson's neck rocked back like a snap band and he pitched off balance and almost hit the deck. Almost but not quite although he stumbled away from them, cupping his face tenderly and looking up in wide-eyed shock.

Seth too seemed fairly aghast by it but Dean wasn't worried.

In fact he was proud.

The promise of a fight had drawn more attention but for the most part the other clustered patrons were unperturbed, simply clucking with minor displeasure or else shooting dirty looks at the slowly brewing clash.

At _Swiss Tony's_ Cesaro would have waded in swiftly and ejected the ringleader.

But at their _new_ bar no such luck.

" _You_ ," Anderson spat at him furiously, "You're gonna fucking pay for that."

Dean grinned back at him picking up on the slurring and enjoying the way that the puce cheek had begun to swell. To make the point he cupped his hand around his earlobe and frowned just a little,

"What did you say? Couldn't make it out – y' know – what with all the loose teeth in your mouth."

Anderson almost exploded,

"You're _dead_."

Dean snorted,

"Heard _that_ one more 'n a few times before as well, so you're gonna have to do better than that."

He snapped his head side to side to drive the message home and then further underlined it by bouncing up and down on his toes. The quintessential pre-fight ritual although he was missing the visual aid of having his wrists taped.

 _Bring it on._

Anderson continued to stare over for a second like he was debating his options and coming up with none. Or at least none that _wouldn't_ end up with him getting pummelled which was likely to happen if he took them two-on-one. Really he would have been best to just get out of there although he actually chose to _sneer_ at them first. Like some cheap pastiche villain from a straight-to-tape movie or a bad student film project.

Very mature.

"This isn't over."

Yep.

Bad movie villain although on the plus side he seemed satisfied to have had the last word and finally turned to slink away through the drinkers still cupping his face and glowering.

There, all gone.

If Dean had been expecting Seth's gratitude however then he turned out to be pretty wildly wrong since he turned back to a face of genuine horror and wide brown eyes.

"What the fuck have you done?"

"Uh," Dean faltered, "I punched him in the face for you?"

He almost added _you're welcome_ but was more confused by what was wrong. Seth seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown which was by no means a comfort.

"He's gonna come back."

"So?" Dean shrugged, "I'll punch him again then."

Seth shook his head,

"You don't understand, he has _friends_ – ,"

"Who're probably still locked up," Dean shrugged coolly, "Chill alright? I got this in the bag."

Taking Seth's elbow Dean turned his teammate briskly before righting the tipped chair and forcing the younger man back down. Seth seemed dazed,

"I can't believe you fucking _punched_ him. I wanted to do that to the guy for _two years_."

Dean gazed over at him across the beer bottles and winced just a little,

"He really make your life that bad?"

Seth shrugged,

"He tried to beat me down a whole _bunch_ of times, even managed it too maybe once or twice."

"Why?"

"Take your pick," Seth snorted back bitterly, "Police background, the fact I was working too hard – ,"

The younger man shrugged again and turned his hands over like he was looking for the words that would explain it all right but coming up empty because – really – what _could_ he say without simply saying on repeat that it had _sucked_. But then again the whole thing was _supposed_ to have sucked big ones because it was prison. It was never meant to be fun. Seth had done something and had been made to serve time for it and Dean was aware that his teammate knew that.

Like _really_ knew that.

Seth was almost constantly atoning and although he didn't need to – it had all been forgiven – he would possibly never be in a place to forgive _himself_. Which was probably the reason his response was so shifty not to mention furtive.

Dean clicked his fingers,

"Hey, _stop_ – stop with the guilt crap and just talk to me here man, brother to brother here, alright?"

Brown eyes blinked back at him,

"It's fucking _hard_ to remember it."

"Guess we all got memories like that."

Seth cringed a little but then exhaled heavily and nodded like he was letting the tension out,

"Yeah."

"The guy was an asshole."

Seth's lips quirked up a fraction,

"Sure is but – you know – thanks for having my back man."

In response to _finally_ getting some credit Dean tapped his bottle against Seth's with a chink, drawing it back again and taking a swig from it before shrugging almost flippantly,

"You're m' little brother, I love ya man."

Seth gazed back at him deeply across the table and then snorted with fondness,

"Love your crazy ass back."

Dean grinned at the response and then slumped down a bit as the atmosphere around them unclenched and grew bright. For a moment it even made the _dive bar_ seem palatable and not so god awful –

Perhaps it _hadn't_ been a wasted night?

Although naturally his newly buoyant mood ebbed away again as a slightly slurred voice cut in at them across the space, angry and with a measure of hot accusation that was by no means unfamiliar.

"There they are, that's them."

"Oh _shit_."

Seth's sharp bark was utterly alarming as was the accompanying look on his face and the whole thing made Dean turn around with hesitation into –

 _Crap_.

What the hell was _this_?

Anderson was coming in fast across the floor at them, half-shadowed by a second towering man. Clearly he had backup but that wasn't the strange part.

What was weird was that the other man looked _exactly like him_.

Taller by what amounted to about seven inches – which unfortunately also made him _way_ taller than Dean – but also shaven haired with a deep scowling eyebrow and the god damn _exact same_ and goatee and beard. It was like the two fuckers had been created _in vitro_ but one got all the nutrients while the other had been starved.

Dean frowned in bewilderment,

"Who the fuck's the new guy?"

"Gallows."

"Brother?"

"No."

"But they – ,"

Seth nodded,

"They look the same."

The two men were cutting a fast swathe towards them but Dean still jerked a lazy thumb their way.

"This _Gallows_ dude also like to try and beat up on you?"

Seth swallowed visibly and then nodded,

"Uh, yeah."

"Good to know."

Dean was up in an instant with his game-face switched into _go mode_ and his fists curled in tight.

 _Beat up a brother, get a broken cheekbone._

The rules weren't exactly complex in Dean's book.

With that being said though the new guy was massive in terms of both girth and being freakishly tall. He towered over Dean way before he even got there and in stepping ever closer managed to block out all the light. It was like having Godzilla steaming towards him and it sapped the fight out of him.

Or didn't but _should_ have.

Because as Gallows and Anderson moved in looking deadly, Dean chuckled wryly.

"Couldn't stay away huh? I get it, I mean, I _am_ irresistible."

Outwardly he was the very model of calm. _Internally_ though he was tensing for the action that was almost fucking _bound_ at some point to come, since there was no way on earth the two men had stalked over like a pair of raging bulls to have a beer and hang out –

A point that was proven not two seconds later as Anderson pointed towards him roughly and turned his head to highlight a bruised cheek. There were knuckle marks in a row like white studwork against the redness and Dean couldn't help but smirk at it.

 _Good._

"That's the one who swung at me."

" _Hit you_ ," Dean corrected, "I think we _both_ know I didn't miss, am I right?"

In response to him Gallows lumbered in closer until he was looming above him like a giant monolith. He was breathing kind of heavily too which was unsettling, as if he was so unspeakably angry that even his _sinuses_ were hot. His fists were already tightly curled by his hip bones and quite frankly just one of them could have taken his head off.

But it didn't matter to him.

Well, not really.

Because they were _also_ the fists that had once taken it to Seth and so Dean would go down swinging and scrapping just to mete out what he hoped would be revenge. At the end of the day broken bones could be mended and concussion would heal but Seth and Roman might not. The men – his _brothers_ – were just about his only family and he was going to defend them whenever they needed it and never with anything _less_ than all he had. Which was fortunately a sense of kinship they all shared since in the background Seth stood up and moved to his side.

Gallows grunted,

"Rollins."

So he _did_ speak.

Seth sucked a breath in,

"Haven't missed _your_ ugly face."

At his younger brother's missive Dean bit a proud snort back and began to wonder if just maybe he'd rubbed off. Usually Seth was cautious and rational but suddenly there he was throwing out barbs. Although possibly it was simply being faced with his tormentors having finally just left his crappy memories in the past. Either way it was ballsy and feisty and Dean liked it although Gallows and Anderson were a little _less_ impressed.

"You got a smart mouth, I'm gonna fucking enjoy closing it."

Luckily however the punch was never thrown as _another_ tall figure slid smoothly in between them and then stood like a statue in the middle of the throng.

Roman –

With near impeccable timing and a thin warning smile.

"Looks like I'm missing all the fun."

Dean grinned back,

"Nah uce, I would a' saved some."

"Would have taken all the best bits."

"You don't trust me?"

"No."

Gallows and Anderson blinked back at them cluelessly, clearly thrown off by the cool repartee. Evidently they had been expecting more pleading or whimpering or possibly even a frightened high-pitched scream. Verbal jousting had not been in the game plan and as a result they looked borderline unsure of what to do.

The monolith grunted,

"That _asshole_ jumped my buddy."

Roman eyed him briefly and pretty idly,

"Is that right?"

"So now I gotta drag myself right across the room here just to break his face."

"You'll have to come through me first."

For whatever reason Gallows seemed _surprised_ by that, blinking at Roman like he thought the guy was mad. Anderson pushed forward and shouldered him aside a bit, still seeming angry,

"An' who the hell are you?"

Roman gazed back at them,

"I'm their older brother."

Dean grinned proudly.

 _Boom_.

Mic drop right there.

"Three on two fellers, ain't lookin' so hot for ya."

Anderson surged towards him,

"You shut your mouth."

" _Hey_ – ," Roman caught him two-handed frowning darkly with an underlying hint of their future, "Come through _me_. I already told you once and I'm done repeating it. If you want one of them then you have to come through me."

Anderson – clearly not used to being handled – reacted with anger and tried to rip from the grasp which only succeeded in tightening the fingers that were warningly balled in the fabric of his shirt.

"Get your damn hands _off_ me asshole,"

"Suit yourself," Roman shrugged, before relaxing his hold,

" _Shit_ – ,"

The release was timed with perfection as Anderson rocked back in another attempt to haul loose which sent him careering – with arms flailing – into Gallows who had been in the process of trying to step in close.

" _Ow_ – ,"

With a total lack of dignity the pair became tangled in a spitting, swearing bundle of limbs before falling apart clumsily, red-faced and panting as the dive bar regulars laughed into their drinks.

Roman smirked too.

So did Dean, who went further and let out a chuckle.

"Smooth boys, _smooth_."

The second time around it was Gallows who moved for him but once again Roman beat him to the punch, not literally but _almost_ as he blocked the ape's trajectory and curled a fist warningly.

 _Leave him alone._

For a second there was a good old fashioned stare down like the five of them were way out west in a saloon, with a jittery pianist waiting for the gunfight and a bevy of showgirls with feathers in their hair. Dean kind of liked that mental image – the three of them as lawmen hunting gangs of outlaws down – but in the end the big finale wasn't terribly exciting as Anderson merely snorted and wiped a hand across his mouth,

"You ain't worth the time."

Dean grunted.

They certainly _had_ been less than a fucking minute ago.

Wisely however he decided to stay quiet and simply watched glaring as the morons turned to go. Anderson bled into the crowd fairly rapidly but Gallows could stood head and shoulders above them all which meant that they were pretty easy to follow as they crossed the sticky floor tiles and headed for the door.

Initially it seemed as if the pair would just exit without drawing any more attention to themselves, but Anderson blew that theory clean from the water when he paused on the threshold and let out a yell,

"See you round Rollins, good catchin' up with you."

Dean surged forwards but Seth grabbed him,

"Let them go."

He did but only very _very_ grudgingly instead sort of _growling_ until the bar door banged shut, at which point Seth sat back down again heavily and shook his head a little in bewilderment.

" _Geez_."

Scooping his beer up he set about draining it with a sudden intensity he hadn't shown before while Dean continued to stand next him _fidgeting_ which made Roman frown sharply at both of them in turn,

"One of you mind filling me in on what just happened here?"

Seth snorted bitterly,

"Long story man."

Dean however managed to paraphrase slightly,

"Those assholes knocked him around when he was locked up."

Roman stiffened instantly,

"They _what_?"

Clearly had he known _that_ he wouldn't have been so lenient which was further underlined as he spun for the doors, his fists clenched angrily like he was going to bust out after them and track them down to exact his revenge. In response to it Seth reached out and grabbed at his shirt hem, tugging the fabric lightly,

"No, hey, I'm _fine_. Don't do anything stupid – either of _one_ you – let's just finish our beers, alright?"

Dean twitched,

"But those guys – ,"

"Are part of my past now. I'm over that shit, okay? It's done."

It wasn't exactly the most convincing of sentences but what it lacked in reality it made up for in fight. Seth was still at war with the choices and decisions made back _way back when_ but he was trying to move on. The three of them had rebuilt their foundations and were stronger not to mention bigger and better this time around. Seth was a part of that – had _driven_ the reunion – and there was no way he would let that be taken from him now.

 _Go Sethie, go._

Sliding back into his chair like a conga eel, Dean grabbed his beer bottle and held it aloft.

"This calls for a fuckin' toast."

"Who to?" Roman grunted back at him, reclaiming his seat so they were all sitting down, back to the comfortable session it had once been before the assholes had shown up and sent everything to hell.

Or not.

Because _something_ had come out of the intrusion and it didn't take a genius to figure out what. It wasn't new on any front – Dean already knew it – but it was always, always nice to underline it a little more.

"To us," Dean grinned broadly before expanding, "To _brothers_."

Two bottles lifted up and chimed on his, neither one of them flinching for even a second as the words parroted back at him firmly.

" _Brothers_."

* * *

 **Alrighty then, so, next week (and just in time for Christmas) I give you the boys out doing some festive shopping and everything going dramatically wrong.**

 _ **All**_ **the boys are in the danger in that one so whoever your favourite is, I've got you accounted for!**


	5. Devil's Breath

**READ FIRST! Okay, so this is** _ **not**_ **the Christmas one I promised because I realized (belatedly) that I should save that installment for** _ **actual**_ **Christmas next week. However please accept my favourite one-shot instead. This one is based on a prompt by Minnie1015 who wanted brainwashing. Your wish is my command…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, Seth's past had to crop up and will do again in the one I'm currently working on (hint, hint, stick around) Glad you liked it though, it's always nice to do slightly more relaxed ones...which this one is definitely not!**

 **Ninjoy, Aww, glad you liked it. Had to have Roman come in and play big brother, since it's his job to clear their messes up for them! Plus, he's pretty intimidating which always helps! Hope this installment is up to scratch (crosses fingers).**

 **Skovko, Dean with bunny ears is an...interesting image! Yep, I'm moving through the roster like a champion racehorse at this point, plus I love the fact that those two look so weirdly similar! Like one of them has been put in the dryer too long (bless 'em!)**

 **Cherry619,** _ **Normal**_ **and the boys aren't words that really mix! Sorry it's not the shopping story this week though (it will be your Christmas present however if that's any consolation) Hope you enjoy this one just as much though!**

 **Mandy, I love the way that Dean can swing between childlike and menacing whenever he's on screen, like when he's being all wacky and then whips out a dirty deeds on someone. I** _ **try**_ **to capture something similar! But as ever, I'm super glad you liked it and hope the same for this one!**

 **Minnie1015, Okay, I won't stop and on top of that I am also delivering your prompt, although with my own unique twist which I hope is alright (eek)? Love this one-shot totes so thank you for suggesting it. Lots of Dean feels here as well...enjoy!**

 **Debwood-1999, Yeah, I figured a full on brawl in a bar was not good, but if they had come back it would have been on! Hope you can wait for the Christmas shopping story until next week (sorry I messed up my timings with that). With any luck though, this story will fill the gap alright.**

 **Wwe21, Never say never when it comes to characters coming back, although I don't have any plans as yet doesn't mean it won't happen at some point! As for requests, that's a really good suggestion so I will definitely keep it in mind!**

 **Rebel8954, You're very welcome for the Seth story, I know you've been waiting patiently (along with others) for him to take centre stage so I hope that filled in some details about his jail time and also helped strengthen the brotherly bond!**

 **So, to recap here, Christmas next week, this one instead...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Devil's Breath**

Dean Ambrose had gotten by on gut instinct and stubbornness for pretty much the whole of his life. Which meant that he had been able to smell trouble from the second the files had been slapped down onto his desk.

"What the hell's this?"

"New case," Steph had answered, "Three murders but I'll warn you boys now they're pretty weird."

 _Weird_.

Dean snorted.

Hadn't _that_ been the word for them.

They weren't just _weird_ they were completely insane.

Three people had each committed a murder and what was more they had all been found at the scene, sitting in the blood of their poor helpless victims and blinking off into the distance as if they didn't care.

But the rub was they didn't remember anything.

None of them – not _one_ – had any recollections beyond having gone out earlier in the night to a bar. From there on in the memories had grown hazy if not for the most part totally black and then there was the problem of the suspects' motivation and the connection to their victims of which there were none. Those who were killed had been seemingly picked at random and those that had killed them had no police records at all. There was a teacher, a lawyer and a college art student from good wholesome families who had no reason to drop the ball. Each of them was broken and utterly bewildered by the fact that they had suddenly snapped and they each showed remorse which was unlike most killers or criminals in general and served to make the whole thing _more_ bizarre.

One blackout killing might have been a pretty strange thing but three in a row was too much too far. There _had_ to be something more sinister behind it or a chemical factor that made them all go mad. Before long the media would have laid their grubby hands on it and spread raw hysteria.

The Shield had needed to shut it down.

Which meant they had needed to follow a lead up –

Or not so much _a_ lead as the _only_ lead they had which had sent them to a bar on the East Side called _The Balor Club_ and which was run by a pale eyed Irishman called Finn.

It was a logical point to start their investigation since the bar was the last place that the so-called _murderers_ had ended up and the basic assumption was that someone must have drugged them while they were busy on the dance floor and not watching their drinks.

"Mind control?" Stephanie had blinked at them incredulous when Dean had put the theory across, "You really think that's what is causing the killings?"

"Not _mind control_ ," Seth had responded with a sigh, "This isn't _A Clockwork Orange_."

" _Suggestion_ ," Dean had emphasized, "Bein' told to do shit."

"There are drugs that can do that?"

"Depends on who you speak to," Dean had shrugged idly, "But possibly, yes."

So that was the hypothesis the three of them were working on which meant tracking down the puppet master who got off on the whole thing. In that at least though Finn had been keen to help them, not wanting the bad publicity the deaths would mean for his bar and offering the policemen whatever they had needed to make their operation both successful and fast.

It was a perfect – _perfect_ – case for undercover work.

Dean's speciality.

Only he couldn't take part.

Two weeks before his knee had popped out badly when they'd been chasing down a _most wanted_ human trafficker. Dean had been inches from collaring the asshole when a little old lady had suddenly opened her car door.

 _Bang._

He had slammed hard into it and then flipped up and over, positively somersaulting himself across the frame and landing in a heap on the sidewalk on his kneecap which had made a tell-tale popping sound and elicited a near scream. Seth had ground to a quick halt beside him and tried to apply some basic first aid but by the time that Roman had managed to catch their suspect the damage to their brother had already been done.

A month on crutches.

A fucking _month_ on crutches.

Fourteen days in and he was already half-insane.

Worst of all it meant he couldn't go undercover which was _his_ thing and had _always_ been his thing. Instead he had been relegated back down to mere surveillance work and watching his teammates while they did _his thing_.

Dean Ambrose was not a very happy man.

" _Hey, you read us_?"

The crackled voice startled him as it blasted through the headphones into his ears way too loud.

"Fuck – ,"

Leaning forward he twisted some dials in the vague hope one of them would turn the volume down.

" _Dean_?"

"Yeah, yeah, stop shoutin' at me will ya? I hear you already, m' ears are drippin' blood."

" _Dial on the right, turn it towards the windshield, that's the volume_."

"Thanks for tellin' me that _now_."

There was a chuckle across the speakers as Seth and Roman exchanged amusement and it made Dean grumble in bitterness even more. He wanted – no, _needed_ – to be out there with them instead of being cooped up inside a cramped and rusty box.

 _Ugh._

"Well since you two are doin' my job for me, you at least seen anythin' halfway useful yet?"

Dean slumped back and attempted to stretch his legs out but only managed to kick and then knock over a balanced crutch which clattered to the ground with an almighty metal clanging that made the damn walls shake.

So much for their _covert surveillance van_.

Luckily however Seth and Roman didn't hear it since he hadn't been pressing the microphone button down, besides which they were probably able to hear precious little over the god awful beats that Finn played inside the club.

" _Nothing yet_ ," Roman's voice grumbled back at him in a murmur like he was attempting to go unheard, " _Plenty of guys I wouldn't trust around my daughter though_."

"Isn't that all guys?"

" _I'm still hoping she'll be a nun_."

"She's seven uce, she's not thinking about careers yet."

Roman snorted mildly,

" _Never too young to start_."

Somewhere in the background the music genre shifted and turned from booming techno into booming trance. Seth voiced his discontent through unimpressed grunting and Dean stuck his tongue out and bit back a grin.

Maybe surveillance wasn't such a bad job _after_ all.

Only –

Wait a minute.

Yes, yes it was.

" _Hey_ ," Roman intoned at Seth more than likely which was quickly confirmed, " _The bar, ten o'clock_."

" _He got a vial in his hands_?"

" _Kind of looks like it_."

On hearing their patter Dean stiffened at once.

"You found him?"

" _Maybe_ ," Seth offered steadily, not getting too excited, " _Gonna go and check it out_."

Dean let out a grunt,

"Looks like you don't need me."

It came out a good deal more unhappy than he'd intended although frankly the sentiments themselves were true enough.

Roman snorted back at him,

" _Nah, we'll always need you_."

Dean mumbled a reply out quietly,

"Thanks man."

Unfortunately as it turned out the suspect with the vial was not so much an overlord with murderous intentions as a man with pink eye and some antibiotic drops who was still attempting to pick up girls in spite of it like a raging infection wasn't reason enough to stop.

Perhaps unsurprisingly they had him kicked out.

Sometimes their fellow males were gross fucking things.

But that still left them with a great big pile of nothing which clearly was starting to rankle with Seth who dropped against the bar with a groan of frustration that bled down the microphone.

" _We've got nothing so far_."

"You expected the guy to just show up in front of you?"

" _Of course not man, I was just hoping that's all, this case is too damn freaky for my liking._ "

Roman grunted,

" _You mean the whole demon thing_?"

Ah.

The demon thing.

Enough to cause tremors in even the hardest and coldest of hearts and just another weird fucking detail to add to the blackouts and _mind control_ crap. Because on top of remembering having drinks at _The Balor Club_ the other thing the three not-so-murderers agreed on was that they vividly remembered a demonic form at some point. Black apparently, with big white canines and a long and curling blood red tongue.

Frankly Dean didn't have a clue what to make of it but _they_ thought they'd seen it.

That much was not in doubt.

Still it seemed unlikely if not utterly impossible although clearly it was managing to freak their brother out, so he snorted a little and tried to sound comforting,

"Hallucinogens man, they make you see all _kinds_ of things."

" _Speaking from experience_?"

"Um, I – nope – a friend told me."

Seth bit back his disbelief,

" _Uh huh_."

Luckily the thread of the conversation was broken by the sound of two glass bottles thumping down. It was followed by the soft lilting tones of Finn's accent as he yelled above the music,

" _Here ya go lads_."

Dean's grumpy jealousy promptly rose tenfold.

Now they were getting free beers thrown in?

" _Thanks_."

" _Figure you could do with a little liquid pick me up_ , _doesn't seem like it's going so well."_

Roman grunted in response to the assessment and then evidently took a quick swig,

" _We'll get him eventually, just not tonight_ _man_."

Dean could practically _hear_ the beer bubbles gliding down and he grumbled across the microphone sullenly,

"How's the ale big guy?"

" _Bring you some out uce_?"

Dean huffed unhappily,

"Pain pills."

" _Oh right_."

Thanks to the god damn half-blind old woman who had thrown her door open and knocked him to the ground, not only had Dean been forced to use crutches but he had been given prescription painkillers as well, which rattled around in his pocket like maracas and were all too easy to forget to top up. Luckily Seth had taken to reminding him every six hours to have another dose otherwise he would probably have taken too many or far too few to actually work.

 _Little Sethie Nightingale_.

Dean snorted.

He would use that and add it to his list of ways to rile Seth up.

The sound of his cell phone broke through the amusement and he slipped off his headphones and fumbled to get it lose, rummaging through the pockets of his denim and past the damn pain pills before pulling it out. The name on the screen made him roll his eyes slightly and he pressed it to his ear with a testy grumble,

"What?"

Stephanie snorted,

" _Deferential as always, that's what I like about you Ambrose, the respect."_

Her sharp sounding tones made him suck a steadying breath in before centring himself a little,

"What's goin' on _boss_?"

" _Well done, much better_."

"So this is _like_ a social call?"

Stephanie hummed in wry amusement at her officer,

" _Ambrose are you asking me for girl talk right now_?"

"Hopin' maybe our cycles have synced at last."

His boss lady snorted,

" _What a hideous thought_."

So it always was in conversations between the two of them which were largely comprised of a never ending back and forth. There was probably a reason for her calling him somewhere but whatever it was they hadn't gotten to it yet and probably wouldn't until she came to the conclusion that she had annoyed him sufficiently for one sorry night.

"Listen Big Kahuna – ,"

She thankfully got down to it,

" _How are you boys getting on over there_?"

"Not great, haven't found our guy yet but we're lookin'."

Or at least two thirds of their taskforce were,

" _Has the club owner been helping_?"

"Who, Finn? Yeah. Good guy."

" _But still no leads_."

"Have we ever let you down?"

Stephanie snorted,

" _You mean the team? Never. But you as an individual on the other hand – ,"_

She tailed off and Dean bit a smirk back and pretended to be wounded,

"Ouch, fuckin' hurts."

" _You'll get over it._ "

"Always do."

There was a very brief pause in which the teasing died off a bit and a more solemn mood seemed to suddenly prevail. She was like that _–_ their commissioner _–_ never too far from severity which was likely the result of being a McMahon.

Or possibly from being in charge of the city.

Maybe more likely a combination of both.

" _You'll call me the moment you find something_?"

"You know it."

" _Be careful the three of you._ "

Dean scoffed,

"We'll be fine."

Their erstwhile boss then rang off without _farewelling_ and rendered the surveillance truck silent again, leaving Dean sat all alone and feeling newly grumpy because _god_ he was unthinkably bored. How in the hell did Seth even do it day in and day out without going half mad? Dean had been in some life or death situations but he would have taken them every time over being stuck in a tin can.

 _Every single time._

Without exception _._

Even near death was more appealing than sitting it out.

Still, what the hell else could he do one-legged and screwing his face up whenever he moved? Roman and Seth _needed_ him to be the tech man and so while it wasn't fun he would do it for them.

He picked up the headphones,

"Remember Ambrose, you're gettin' paid for this."

Then he carefully slotted them back on.

What he was expecting was more god awful music and his teammates chatting lightly and sipping their beers, he was even expecting to hear Finn still chattering or Seth talking random plans of action down the line. In short he was prepared for just about anything except for deathly silence which was precisely what he got.

 _Huh?_

There wasn't so much as a whisper through the speakers and so he fiddled with the volume dial, grumbling,

"Piece of crap."

He even reached out and thumped it at one point as if _that_ might somehow get things to work but the silence lingered on and with every passing second a feeling grew inside him that tumbled and rolled.

Something was wrong.

After all, Seth had bought them the very best equipment spending most of their budget in a single eye-watering go. Stephanie had positively blown a hole through the warehouse when she had found out about it but the tech-guru had stood firm and explained why every piece of it was vital and why they had to have the best if they were going to make it work. The damn stuff was practically all still under warranty and so it wouldn't have just suddenly given up on him.

Right?

He tried again to twist a few buttons and call across the microphone but nothing seemed to work, not that he knew what the fuck he was doing but in his limited expertise he'd tried everything and more. Seth and Roman were incommunicado and his natural gut instinct was flashing in red.

 _Danger Will Robinson._

He just couldn't shake it.

Somewhere and somehow something was off.

"God damn it all."

With a growl of frustration he reached for his crutches before remembering that he had sent one crashing to the floor. In the process it had managed to wrap itself around the table and it took no small amount of hooking with his _good_ leg to drag the stupid thing back out again.

 _Fuck_.

Nor was that his only problem logistically since he then had to get himself _out_ of the van which meant opening the doors and negotiating two half-steps that had clearly been designed for hobbits instead of men. The chances of him screwing up his _other_ knee were sky high and it had taken Roman's help to get him up them at all. Getting down without assistance therefore was wildly perilous although it had to be done.

What other choice did he have?

Even so he swore almost continuously doing it, drawing a few looks from people out for the night. The sight of him stumbling from the back of a truck waving a pair of crutches was probably quite a sight although he reserved the right to resent their squeals of laughter.

It must have been like seeing Buster Keaton on ice.

By the time he finally reached the ground uninjured he was actually panting like he'd run a fucking mile which didn't do a lot to boost his disposition _or_ even out the frantic beating of his heart. Because if something was wrong then Seth and Roman were in danger and that would _always_ send him into panic mode. It was no exaggeration to describe them as his family.

The two were _literally_ all he had in the world.

Arriving at the entrance with a clacking of crutches he elbowed past the doorman who curled his lip but stepped aside. Luckily Finn had given them free access and instructed his staff to let them move back and forth. A few people in the queue outside the door began protesting but Dean left them to it since they weren't his concern.

Inside the place was packed virtually up to the roofline and he was jostled almost instantly which made him hiss out in pain. Still the crutches _also_ stood in nicely as weapons and he employed that feature readily to make his way across the floor.

"Ow, what the fuck?"

"Watch where you're going man."

"Are disableds even _allowed_ in here?"

The insults from those he clipped on his journey washed past him easily as he hobbled towards the bar, his eyes bouncing left to right in constant motion as he searched for his teammates yet not spotting either one.

Where the fuck were they and what the fuck had happened?

How could they have just disappeared into the night?

Lurching against the bartop he flagged down a server with a wave of his hand before shouting,

"You seen my guys?"

The young man shook his head.

"Not for a while now."

"How 'bout Balor?"

"Try the office out back."

To further his suggestion he pointed towards a doorway marked _staff only_ in warning shades of red.

"Thanks."

But evidently the barman was no longer listening as he moved off to serve the paying guests along the bar. Dean grunted at him them shuffled off muttering as he attempted to struggle a _second_ time through the hordes.

Seriously?

Were _both_ his god damn crutches invisible or was everyone seeing them then deciding they didn't care? Either way it didn't reflect well on their society and as a result his mood dove several notches more. By the time he reached the doorway he was almost fucking _murderous_ and couldn't get out through the thing quick enough.

Sealing out the racket was immediately blissful and as the handle clicked in place he exhaled heavily,

"Thank fuck."

Before him lay a long dark corridor which was infinitely different to the strikingly painted club. Outside the décor was neon and lurid while behind the scenes it was dank and lined by brick walls. Still, if nothing else it the showed off the club's pedigree as being in the middle of the old part of town. Back in its heyday Suplex must have been beautiful but the arrival of the sixties and _oceans_ of concrete had managed to strip the classy aesthetic clean off.

 _National Geographic_ were never camped out in Suplex.

Although the _True Crime_ channel filmed a _hell_ of a lot.

 _Seth and Roman._

Dean set off with a clatter.

Seth and Roman still needed his help.

Halfway up the damp little passage he came across a staircase with a sign pinned against the wall. There was an arrow hand-drawn and a scribble of writing which comprised a single word.

 _Office._

"Of fuckin' _course_."

Naturally the office was up a metal staircase because the gods had all ganged up on him since his kneecap had popped out. After having lived three decades without having met much climbing everywhere he went there were _suddenly_ stairs which went far beyond his just simply never having noticed them and could only be some sort of universal joke.

"Balor?"

Nothing.

Because again –

 _Too easy._

He was simply going to have to make the climb.

" _Christ_."

Turning himself sideways with his crutches to the left and right of him – one on the ground and one on the step above – Dean ascended the steps sort of _crab-like_ although in terms of his speed he was more like a snail. Nor was he sure it was the best way to even _do_ it although he plugged away determinedly shaking and grunting beneath the force.

If climbing from the truck had felt like a running race then the climb to the office felt like a fucking _marathon_ and his hand was so sweaty when he finally hit the doorway that it took him two attempts to even turn the damn knob.

Inside the office lay half-lit and gloomy and he stepped inside it panting with an unhappy frown,

"Balor?"

The room itself was fairly sparsely furnished but was a typical office from what he could see, with a desk and filing cabinets, bookshelves and a sofa with a high narrow window bringing light in from the street. Dean stepped forward and then stopped in confusion as the weave beneath his feet gave way suddenly to something else –

Something that crackled and rustled pretty harshly and glancing down his eyes landed on a spread out plastic sheet.

"What the – ,"

At almost the exact same moment he uttered it, the door slammed shut and the lights snapped on, blinding him instantly without any warning and drawing a grunt of aggravation,

" _Fuck_."

In response to the expletive there was a rough sounding chuckle and Dean spun towards it still blinking through the light. It wasn't a great sound so he was hardly expecting good things but in no way was he expecting the form in front of him.

"The _hell_?"

The person – although frankly it seemed kind of a stretch to call him that – was blocking the doorway and appeared only half dressed with a pair of rubber shorts that seemed to cover precious little although was thankfully obscured by the gallons body paint.

Yep, body paint.

The guy was _covered_ across his face, his shoulders and his torso as well. On his arms were black stockings with red veins trailing up them and there was something on his head that was meant to resemble hair and which fell down in thick swaying braids of different color and were the only feature moving.

He wasn't blinking.

 _Demon._

 _Shit_.

So clearly the drugging victims _hadn't_ been lying when they had spoken of an otherworldly creature.

There he was.

Very much a human with a penchant for weirdness instead of an actual being from hell but for all intents and purposes utterly unearthly and when strung-out or high it would have been pretty hard to tell.

Nor was the over-hyped cosplay character the only figure standing still in the gloom because as Dean's eyes kept on adjusting to the brightness they picked out two more bodies hovering over to one side.

His heart lurched instantly in happy recognition.

 _Roman and Seth._

Thank fuck they were alright.

Although as it turned out _alright_ was pretty relative since neither man moved or so much as even _smiled_. In total it took Dean about a quarter of a second to work out that something about his brothers was not right, which was all the time the demon-man needed to launch towards him and viciously kick out at a crutch, choosing the one Dean was bracing his weight against and sending him tumbling straight down to the ground.

 _Thud_.

Sensing the danger Dean had been trying to draw his gun out – which wasn't so easy not having a spare hand – but as he hit the sheeting it skittered off away from him which largely went unnoticed in the explosion of pain.

" _Ah_ – _fuck_."

Thankfully he had managed to turn enough in falling to land against his hipbone rather than on his knee but the thing still tweaked in protest at the movement and joined his hip which damn near _screamed_ at him as well. On top of that his brain rattled hard at the jolting and the breath all _whooshed_ clean from his startled lungs.

He was stunned and dizzy and throbbing all over.

Not to mention confused.

What the fuck was going on?

Black booted feet stepped quietly towards him, crunching on the plastic as they trampled in close. _The Devil_ or whatever it was crouched low in front of him and with the change in proximity Dean could tell who it was.

"Balor?"

White teeth flashed up bright against the body paint and an accent drifted over,

"Not anymore. _Balor_ is my human name. Do I look like a human? You can call me _The Demon King_."

 _Crap._

Clearly the guy had straight up lost it which didn't bode terribly well for him, but honestly that wasn't even Dean's biggest problem –

 _They_ were standing like statues across the room.

Under normal circumstances if anybody hurt him – say by kicking away his fucking _crutch_ – then either Seth or Roman or more than likely _both_ of them would have been there in a heartbeat swinging fists and breaking heads. Yet as far as Dean could tell neither _one_ of them had shifted and that fact alone worried him far more than the hurt.

"What the fuck have you done to them asshole?"

It was a pretty good question with which to kick things off and Balor grinned broadly in response to Dean's grumble then _chuckled_ like the damn thing was funny.

"You don't know?"

"You spiked their beers."

Balor made a tiny finger gun before aiming it straight at Dean's head,

" _Bingo_."

He then mimed pulling the trigger with a tongue click that jettisoned the imaginary bullet through Dean's skull.

"Might need to think about usin' a different calibre."

Balor grinned,

"Who says _I_ need anything at all?"

Since hitting the deck – or more accurately, the plastic sheeting – Dean hadn't moved on account of all the pain, but with the throbbing tailing off and his spotted vision clearing he was able to push up onto his forearms again.

 _Fuck_ it hurt though.

His knee and damn near _everything_.

What he wouldn't have traded in that very moment to have his brothers snap out of it and hustle over to scoop him up. But since the pair of them still seemed unmoving and unfeeling that thought remained a very distant dream. Which meant getting to his feet and facing down a _demon_ one-legged, unarmed and alone.

Just great.

Throughout it all Balor sat watching from his haunches with the garishly painted teeth making the asshole look _amused_. For him it was probably just a typical weekday evening but for Dean it was very definitely _not_.

Where in the hell had the demon love _come_ from?

How did people realize they were into that kind of thing?

Had he started as a kid with a few basic face paints or had the interest in fire and brimstone come first?

Really Dean had about a million questions and all of them were as random and bewildered as the last but they were jostled aside by something serious and more relevant which grunted out from his lips as he continued to struggle up.

"What've they taken?"

He was referring to Seth and Roman although he wasn't quite brave enough to give them a glance. The sight of them cold and emotionless was eerie and completely terrifying –

He couldn't lose them as well.

Balor looked though and then smiled at his minions who continued to stand like they were carved from blocks of stone. In the pause it created Dean rolled onto his ass cheeks glad to be back upright but sweating and panting hard. For a second he half-expected Balor to kick him down again but fortunately the guy still had other things on his mind.

"South Americans call it _The_ _Devil's Breath_ but if you want the boring name then it's _scopolamine_."

Dean let out a grunt,

"So you got a thing for chemistry? Congratulations asshole. You want a badge or a rosette?"

It was exactly the sort of sentence that Seth would have scolded and Dean could almost hear his frantic warnings.

 _Be calm_.

But that was the point –

Seth _wasn't_ shouting because the bastard in front of him had screwed with his head which meant that Dean could not and would not _be calm._ Not then and not on any plain of reality and let the consequences be damned. Dean was down but he was still fucking fighting and he was doing it for them.

He was getting his brothers back.

Not that Balor seemed to sense his growing doggedness since he was still hung up on the damn _history_ of the thing, continuing to prattle as Dean summoned up his willpower and conversing like a professor among a roomful of his peers.

"But as a substance it just never took hold up in these parts, although the CIA tried it in the sixties for a while, they were big on the _mind control_ aspect back in those days and – ,"

Dean interrupted with a wave of his hand,

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the details will ya? You're not only one who gets the _history channel_ y' know."

Balor blinked in surprise then simply stared at him, like he was trying to work something out. The policeman gazed back both angry and unflinching although he couldn't stop from wincing as a stab of pain shot through his knee.

 _Crap_.

"I like you Ambrose."

"Well, aren't _I_ the lucky one?"

Balor grinned again,

"Shame I have to slit your throat – well I say _I_ will but what I mean is _they_ will."

He gestured to Seth and Roman and Dean froze at once,

"What?"

"Thanks to the drug they'll do anything I tell them."

Dean frowned hotly,

"The _fuck_ they will. These two guys over here are my _boys_. They're not gonna hurt me."

"Not normally, no."

There was something about the confidence in Balor that made the detective sort of _tremor_ a bit. Because the fact was the Irishman had a better understanding of the uses of scopolamine than anyone else in the room. Dean didn't think or believe that his best friends would ever _intentionally_ cause him any harm but at the same time neither one of them was reacting and so it was possible – _just_ – that maybe Balor was right.

"Guys?"

Seth and Roman continued staring blankly neither appearing to hear or respond to the word which had frankly come out hesitant and more beseeching than he'd meant it and highlighted the doubt.

Balor grinned at him,

"Do you see now?"

Dean swallowed down a lump,

"So this is how you did it? Picked a victim at random and told the killers what to do?"

The paint-covered club owner quirked his head indifferently and threw in a shrug,

"As simple as that."

Then suddenly he stood up and stepped backwards away from him in a physical shift that hinted at a turn. _The Demon King_ was clearly done with the talking and was ready for action.

Whatever that entailed.

In response to it Dean tried to surge to his feet again although without his damn crutches it was stupidly hard bordering at times on the _totally impossible_ as he stumbled and grunted above a leg that didn't work.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Balor snorted in the background then crossed towards Seth and held something out. It was thin and shiny and pointy and knife-life which was probably because it was – in fact – a fucking _knife_.

"Take this," Finn ordered and damn if Seth didn't _do_ it without a flicker of hesitation.

Dean shook his head,

"No – ,"

But he was only just upright and still not really balanced and so in no real position to call the shots or even _move_. Knowing it Balor then stepped towards Roman and pointed across the office,

"Go and hold him down."

 _Shit_.

As the big dog – _his_ big dog – peeled from the shadows and turned in his direction Dean attempted to escape although given the fact that he was practically _hopping_ his chances of succeeding were not exactly great. Still, if he managed to make it to the staircase then maybe he could call out and make someone hear. That same _someone_ could then call in the cavalry and catch Balor in the act of being a massive dick.

That was the plan.

But it didn't really work for him because Dean only made it to the edge of the sheeting before being halted sharply by an arm he knew well. An arm which was usually a comfort from the danger as opposed to the thing that was trying to take him down.

"Roman, _hey_ – ," Dean gasped in desperation, "Don't fuckin' do this. Snap _out_ of it man."

But all he received was a grunt of indifference as rough hands dragged him backwards and pinned his elbows against his spine. Not that Dean didn't struggle – he did, wildly – but his usual big cuddly teddy of a brother was a an absolute powerhouse as he knew only too well and _he_ was half crippled not to mention exhausted.

Balor blew a breath out,

"He can't hear you Dean."

Seth too was moving and the blade caught the lamplight and made the copper blonde's stomach roll. The expression was icy as it had been three years earlier when the younger man had taken a chair to Dean's skull. The memory sent a shiver through his system and he barked out in anguish mixed with anger,

"Damn it _no_."

There was no way in hell he could be murdered by his brothers.

It just wouldn't happen.

It wasn't _possible_.

But it was and the tightness with which Roman's arms held him and the dual blank expressions were stark proof enough and so Dean tried again to beat a path through the drug-haze as he fought for his freedom and wriggled and thrashed,

"Uce, don't do this, c' mon, I know you're in there, _both_ of you assholes, y' hear me? Fuckin' _fight_."

Except neither of the men that he knew so intently seemed even _remotely_ worried about his death and so in that context alone their need to fight was minimal because the pair of them couldn't see something to fight _for_.

Briefly Dean wondered if he should even _try_ to battle it or simply accept what was about to go down. After all, maybe it was secretly a good thing to be killed by the people that loved him the most. Because the idiots _did_ love him when not drugged up to the eyeballs and so in that regard at least it wouldn't be their fault. Also – when they came round again later and found the gruesome aftermath – wouldn't it be better if he hadn't made it worse? Maybe that would even give them some form of comfort that he willingly let them do it instead of trying to battle out?

"Seth, _c' mon_ man."

His last ditch effort at persuasion didn't work at all.

His teammate lifted up the knife.

" _Do it_ ," Balor shouted almost wild with excitement, "Paint the room red, _slit his damn throat_."

That was it then.

The proverbial _now or never_ and in response Dean stopped struggling to make it easier on them all. Swallowing down a lump he met Seth's expression in the hope that he would one day remember,

"It's okay bro."

Something flickered across the other man's focus and the ghost of a reaction lit up his eyes. For a second Dean assumed that he'd simply fucking _dreamt_ it but then Roman's voice grumbled low right beside his ear both talking to and _not_ talking to him but steady and even and _seemingly_ in control.

"Three, two, one – ,"

What happened next was dazzling although the most Dean could fathom was _not_ getting stabbed. Because instead of launching forwards Seth suddenly leapt sideways with the knife still held firmly but fixed on _Balor_ this time.

Say _what_?

"Hands up, _right up_ , I want them where I can see them."

Dean could have cried because – yep – _that_ was Seth.

Nor was he the only one startled by the turnaround since Balor too seemed bewildered by events. Gaping in astonishment at his formerly blank minion and _goldfishing_ his mouth up and down like a cod.

"What the hell are you doing? I said _kill him_ – ,"

Seth flapped open a fold of his coat, denoting his cell phone nestled in the inner pocket and patiently recording every word that was said.

"Yeah, we know man, caught you red handed."

Both Balor _and_ Dean blinked back at him,

Huh?

Although suddenly Dean's attentions were once again diverted as Roman's tight grip swiftly loosened around his arms, moving from assertive to something more attentive and accompanied by the deep but seldom heard _indulgent_ tones,

"Easy uce, easy, watch that knee of yours, I got you."

Slowly and carefully Dean was lowered to the ground, with Roman taking pretty much the whole of his body weight and not letting go until his brother was safe and sound.

Seth glanced over,

"Hey, he alright man?"

The question was to Roman clearly based on the assumption that Dean was too dumbstruck to speak for himself but on _that_ point Seth was wrong because Dean's tongue was still functional as evidenced by his next sentence,

"What the _fuck_?"

"Long story uce," Roman sighed back at him, before reaching out and swiftly reclaiming Dean's gun,

"Pretty sure I'm gonna want to fuckin' hear it anyway."

Roman squeezed his shoulder,

"You will babe, you will."

But with Seth still holding down a criminal mastermind with nothing more than a thin and very slightly rusty knife, the explanation was going to have to wait a while leaving Dean to sit and watch as his brothers went to work.

His brothers.

As in his _actual_ brothers who were fully and without exception themselves. Right down to Seth being twitchy and angsty and yanking Finn around and chewing him out. While Roman merely glared at the club owner darkly and snapped the cuffs on before calling the cops out. In essence it was basically like any other drugs bust that the three of them had enacted together across the years and for that reason alone it felt simple and familiar but it was glaringly _screamingly_ different as well.

Questions, questions, _so_ many questions –

And evidently _The Demon King_ had a couple himself.

"How in the hell did you counteract _the devil's breath_?"

Actually the asshole raised a good point although Roman simply snorted at the Irishman shortly looking physically _wounded_ like the inquiry hurt.

"Never even drank the damn stuff in the first place, my man here saw you holding the vial."

He reached out and slapped Seth proudly across the breastbone and the younger man took over as if the contact had been his cue,

"Was pretty easy to work out the rest after that point, not exactly _The Usual Suspects_ you know?"

"So what about your buddy?" Balor pressed frowning and jerking his thumb in the direction of Dean, "He in on this _act_ the two of you got going? Because based on his reactions back there, I'd say not."

Roman moved in and grabbed his collar roughly before shaking him in furious anger,

"Shut up."

They all knew distinctly that Dean _hadn't_ been a part of it and the guilt of that knowledge was clearly eating them up. The fear in Dean's voice and his sheer desperation had been solid and real and heart-breaking all at once. It wasn't likely that _any_ of them would easily forget it, which Balor chose to use to his advantage,

"Some friends _you_ are."

"Alright," Roman growled, "That's it, we're done here."

Then without another word he turned and hauled the guy off, dragging the paint-daubed-murderous weirdo clean from the room and straight down the steps.

Seth and Dean watched him do it in near silence before the copper blonde snorted.

"He gonna kill him or what?"

Seth huffed a breath out,

"I wouldn't put it past him after all of the shit that went down here tonight."

Dean shifted awkwardly which crumpled up the sheeting and managed to drill a burst of pain through his leg,

" _Fuck_."

His teammate was right alongside him in an instant with a hand on his shoulder and the other one against his knee, burning a heat across the top of the injury and grounding him a little as he worried and _Seth-ed_ ,

"Hey, you alright? Need it propping up or something?"

Dean shook his head,

"Nah, sorta comes and goes."

"You take your pills?"

"Thought _somebody_ would remind me."

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Been kinda busy, you know?"

As the wave of pain became more intense without warning, Dean screwed his face up and put out a hand, balling it into the first thing he seized on which just so happened to be a hunk of Seth's shirt. In response his brother's fingers squeezed tighter on his shoulder and then stayed there until Dean had ridden the worst out.

" _Jesus_ – ,"

"You good?"

Dean nodded very mildly, grinning up ruefully at him,

" _Real_ good."

He had been going for humor – or at least something like it – but it didn't seem to have the desired effect as instead of laughing Seth grit his teeth tightly and then shook his head fiercely like he was fighting his anger back.

"I nearly fucking _blew_ when he kicked the crutches out from you."

"Who, you mean Balor?"

Seth's fists tightened,

"Yeah."

"But you needed to wait for him to order you to kill me."

It wasn't a question.

Dean already knew.

It was how their little trio had _always_ caught the bad guys, by leading them into a red-handed trap. By making sure their guilt could in no way be questioned and by doing whatever it took to get proof. Usually Dean was in on that process both helping to craft it and carry it off. Being on the other side of things had been _no_ fun and he was not in any hurry to go through it all again.

Seth let out a sigh,

"If there'd been another way man, if we could've somehow warned you then _trust me_ we would."

"So why the hell didn't you?"

"You think we didn't try to? We were calling you like _crazy_ when we were stood at the bar."

Dean groaned lightly,

"Fuckin' Steph called me, I took the headphones off to answer the call."

 _Fuck_.

There he was thinking his brothers had gone rogue on him and enacted some sort of weird _radio silence_ deal, while all along the pair had been trying to update him and he was the asshole who'd been ignoring _them_.

Was it too late and far too petty to blame Stephanie?

No, no it wasn't.

God _damn_ her to hell.

"So we didn't have much choice but to pretend we were under and just go along with whatever he said. Didn't expect you to haul your ass up here though. What were you _thinking_? You're on fucking _crutches_ man."

At Seth's bark of wonderfully _brotherly_ frustration – which he promised he would never get riled at again – Dean breathed a sigh out and flopped backwards in exhaustion, knowing that the younger man would move in and catch his weight.

He did.

In an instant he was pillowed safely in against Seth's breastbone and answering the question with a sluggish little grin,

"Thought you two assholes were in some kinda trouble."

His teammate snorted wryly,

"Look who's talking, huh?"

"Nah, I woulda found some way of gettin' outta it, m' slippery like a god damn _fox_ , y' know?"

Seth tensed a little and _–_ leant up against him _–_ Dean could feel it ripple through his spine. He had almost been about to shut his eyes and chill a bit but at the sudden little tremor the blue orbs opened wide.

"Listen man – ," Seth started, sounding kind of hesitant which wasn't something he typically was, "Back then when you thought – when you thought I was under and coming at you with the knife, you said _it's okay_. What did you mean?"

 _Oh_.

Dean shrugged his shoulders,

"I meant it was okay."

"To _kill_ you?"

"I guess."

"You would have actually let me _do it_?"

"Wouldn't have been you though, not _really_ anyway."

"Yeah but _still_ – ," Seth spluttered in astonishment, "Why the hell didn't you at least try to fight?"

Dean huffed a breath out and attempted to wriggle off from him but having a gimp leg meant he didn't get far, shifting approximately one to two inches before stopping with a wince as the pain flared up.

 _Fuck_.

Did they really have to go through the god damn post mortem when everything else was over and done? What good would it do for them to hear the gruesome reasonings behind why he had essentially offered himself up? It wouldn't prove anything and would only be awkward –

But then again it was Seth and he didn't give up.

"Dean?"

"Fuck, _fine_ , I thought it would be easier if I went out quietly and didn't make a damn mess. Figured you and the big guy might sleep easier if you knew I'd let you do it instead of fightin' for my life. That cover everythin' you wanted to know asshole or are you gonna ask me any _more_ crap? Gonna send in the Spanish Inquisition with the thumb screws or can we be all done talkin' about this shit?"

For a minute there was nothing but silence in the office, which Dean spent staring red-faced at the door. Honestly he felt like kind of an idiot for having been suckered without spying the ruse. Seth and Roman were his teammates and his brothers and yet he hadn't been able to tell they weren't drugged. Not only that but he had faced down _death_ in front of them and in the process revealed how deeply he cared. On the brink of his life being snuffled out altogether _they_ had been the things at the forefront his mind and although that should have been utterly affirming it was also _embarrassing_ and he didn't know why.

He coughed a little breath out,

"Listen – ,"

He didn't finish it.

In the very next second his speech was stopped physically as Seth suddenly hauled him right up against his chest, winding arms around him _bone-alteringly_ tightly while ruffling the hair almost clean off his head.

"Jesus you idiot, you would have really fucking done that?"

Dean blinked in bewilderment and shrugged,

"Uh huh."

It came out as precious little more than a mumble from where he was buried face first in Seth's shirt, hardly able to _breathe_ the hold was so tight and with a small plastic button part-wedged up his nose. Realistically he should probably have been trying to fight it and protest his teammate's general touchy-feely _ness_. But after everything he had gone through and the thought of almost losing them not to mention nearly losing his _own_ fucking life, the contact was nice and safe and kind of _heartening_ and so he sat and let it happen until Roman reappeared.

"That's it, he's gone, forensics want the office though, just in case – ,"

He stopped on seeing the scene, his eyes drinking in the near rib-breaking _Seth hug_ and his middle brother's gaze peering happily up.

"Hey."

Dean's greeting was gruff but contented and Roman snorted back at him,

"Hey yourself."

"I think we're havin' – like – a _moment_ or somethin'."

The bigger man nodded his amusement,

"So I can tell."

"Wanna get in on this too?"

Roman chuckled,

"Nah, I think I should let you finish up, you good though babe?"

Dean grinned.

There it was again.

 _Both_ of his brothers with open concern for him and even though it had only been missing for mere minutes, having it back felt _damn_ fucking good. Without the two guys who were next to him – or _over_ him since Seth's tight embrace showed no signs of letting up – he was nothing and _had_ nothing and no one to recommend him.

He needed them to be _himself_.

"Wild night, huh uce?" Roman offered idly, smiling down at him all warm and benign. In other words all warm and totally _Roman_ to which Dean nodded back with conviction,

"Better now."

* * *

 **Can I just say again that this one is my favorite? Okay, I will!**

 **Right, the previously promised Christmas one on Christmas Eve (because it ties in with when the story's set). I am aware you will all probably be too busy having a lovely holiday to read it but I'm going to post it anyway as a thank you to everyone for reviewing and supporting me.**

 **I will see you then...**


	6. Trouble In Toyland

**Merry Christmas all (it's just after midnight here). Finally we come to the festive shopping disaster I promised you all a couple of weeks ago but before we get there I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who reviews. You have no idea how much my little heart lights up on seeing them in my emails, especially since things are a bit rough at the moment with my mum being sick and everything being a little unknown, so trust me that reading your lovely comments takes my mind off things and makes me smile. Thank you again!**

 **Mandy, Super glad you loved that last one too. Can't believe you're going to be so close to them (or at least two thirds of them!) Very jealous but I truly hope everything worked out and you have an amazing time! Merry Christmas!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, In the best way of saying it, I'm really happy I got you so worried on that last one! Always love dialling up the tension before faking out because I'm just a big ol' meany really! Would never hurt the boys** _ **too**_ **much though (just enough!) Hope you're having a great Christmas.**

 **Cherry619, Thank you, grumpy vulnerable Dean is my aesthetic (along with childlike Dean, protective Dean, loving Dean, beaten up Dean...I think you get my point). I sort of figured that Dean is the kind of guy who would make a big sacrifice then be all embarrassed about it but I'm glad you liked the Seth/Dean feels at the end. Happy Xmas!**

 **Minnie1015, Yay! So happy you liked it. Definitely turned in one of my favorites. I'm not sure why, it just seemed to flow, sometimes I really have to fight my stories and go back and fiddle when them endless amounts, other times they just kind of fall out, like that one did. So maybe I should be thanking you?! Either way, hope you're having a lovely Christmas.**

 **Skovko, Haha, you know me too well! Besides, if Seth and Roman hadn't been faking then I would have painted myself into a very tight corner! So, you guys celebrate a day early huh? I like that idea. I just read that in Iceland they exchange books on Christmas Eve then spend the rest of the evening reading and eating chocolate. I like the sound of that (especially the eating chocolate bit!)**

 **Ninjoy, Aww, thanks, I'm glad you liked it. Seth and Roman are pretty convincing, but I'm not sure Dean would let them take his role. Plus he got into just as much trouble with them doing as when he's doing it! Plenty more bromance where that came from. It's my weakness too. There's some more here as well, consider it your Christmas present! Hope you're having a fab festive day!**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, I always like to tease you with what's coming next. Hopefully it's as good as it sounds and I also hope you like the one after this, which I will tell you a little more about at the bottom. With any luck, the prospect of that one will excite you too (crosses fingers and toes hopefully).**

 **Wwe21, I won't be setting any of the stories in jail as such (since, no Dean) but I do have an idea for a story (based on a prompt) where the fact he's been to jail is an issue. I'll hopefully be writing that one soon. Hope that sounds like an interesting premise! Hope you're having a fabulous Christmas too!**

 **Now, without any further ado, here they are, answering the question** _ **can these guys do anything without getting into trouble**_ **? No, no they can't. Also, the gunman is a wrestler but I haven't used his name so you're going to have to guess! Let's go...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Trouble In Toyland**

Why Roman had decided to leave his Christmas shopping until _two days before_ was anyone's guess. But he had so there they were in the middle of a toy shop, casting around cluelessly at nearly ten o'clock at night.

Or that is to say that _he_ and _Seth_ were clueless because Roman seemed to have things very much in hand, picking up toys then almost instantly discarding them and stalking with purpose up and down the aisles. Nor was he the only parent out searching – although, frankly for _what_ still seemed unknown – because in total there were six other people in there with them and they pretty much all looked frazzled and fraught.

There was a typical Upper West Side mother in expensive labelled clothing breathlessly following a child – who was wearing karate stuff like he'd just had a lesson but had the girth of a kid who didn't move much – a couple of grandparents discussing a magic set for an absent recipient who would get bullied for sure, a stressed and arrogant long coat-wearing businessman and a teenage shop assistant who clearly wanted to close up.

"Long day, huh?" Dean threw at her lazily, watching her stifle a yawn,

"Sorry, yeah."

She was a pretty little thing – a college student probably – with wispy blonde hair and a bright and perky grin. It had dropped a fair distance in the _half hour_ they'd been in there but she was probably tired from all the studying.

Poor kid.

"Busy time for you right?"

"Absolutely, the busiest."

"Good thing it only comes round once a year."

She nodded back at him firm and emphatic and Dean smiled a little while biting back a low grunt. They hadn't just been words to try and placate her.

He meant it.

 _Thank god it only came once a year._

He _hated_ Christmas and hated it bitterly because it had been _her_ favorite time of the year.

Before _she_ had come along and made his life better – in a million different ways he couldn't start to describe – Christmas had just been a holiday to get drunk through and wile away until normal service was resumed. His family had never been into festivities having too little money and not enough love so the whole damn deal had seemed wildly pointless right up until the moment that _she_ had changed his mind.

Trees, decorations, candles, presents, hot chocolate and stockings –

 _She_ had done the whole lot and had even put cookies and milk out one year.

" _In case Santa stops by."_

She'd been twenty-nine years old.

Not that it had stopped him from sneaking into the kitchen and polishing them off once she'd gone to sleep, wanting it all to be magical for her –

But with _her_ gone, frankly, what was the point?

Both Seth and Roman had invited him home with them, determined that he wouldn't spend the day on his own but Dean wasn't honestly sure he'd be too sociable, with them or their relatives or fucking _anyone_. The last thing he wanted was for his being miserable to screw up anybody else's Christmas Day and so he had consistently denied their frantic naggings and resolved to stay alone in his apartment and get drunk.

It wasn't a _great_ plan but it was his and he would stick to it.

 _Bring it on Christmas, fucking bring it on._

"Dude," Seth barked from an aisle behind him that housed an oddly terrifying selection of dolls, "We've been here for _hours_ , just pick one already."

Roman grunted back at him,

"No one made you come."

In his hands were two almost identical looking Barbie Dolls only one was a mermaid and one was a princess. On the face of it there didn't seem much of a difference but then again _on the face of it_ Dean was clearly wrong.

Seth frowned back at the bigger man sullenly,

"What are you talking about man? You _drove_ us here."

"Dean's not complaining."

"Because this stuff fits his mental age."

" _Hey –_ ," Dean protested, "That's it, I'm with Roman. Keep lookin' big guy, take as long as you want."

As Seth threw his hands in the air in frustration, Dean poked his tongue out and began to wander off although one unhappy word still floated across at him, making his grin widen,

"Ass."

Yes he was.

The toy shop itself was by no means a giant one but it _was_ stocked to the rafters with assortments of cool stuff which included remote control items, battle games, miniature castle and various nerf guns. Things he would _still_ have played with if they'd let him which Roman probably would have but Seth would have not. Somewhere in the back of the shop in the corner – hidden by the tall aisles – he found a pirate boat too. As in a genuinely tiny but fully formed pirate boat with cannons and booty and a parrot on the mast.

"Hey, cool man."

His murmur was awestruck and he was about to test the rigging when a gunshot rang out.

 _Bang._

"Everyone stay where you are, no moving."

Dean's heart froze.

What the hell was going on?

More importantly where were Seth and Roman and who – if anyone – had the bullet even struck? There were footsteps out on the shop floor moving hurriedly and a mixture of screaming and shocked sounding gasps. The entire store _shivered_ with a sudden wave of tension and there was a heavy sort of _thunk_ as someone locked the door.

Dean grit his teeth.

So, they had themselves a hold up.

His cop senses burst into life.

 _Keep calm._

Nor was he the only one thinking that motto, because as his stomach churned and then fully rolled over like the seas the little pirate boat _should_ have been on, Seth's familiar tones rang out firmly and it was clear that he was trying to simmer things down.

"Easy man, don't do something wild here, we got you alright? We'll do whatever you want."

He was attempting to lift off some of the friction but it didn't seem to do a whole lot of good and was swiftly interrupted by the sound of a whimper that was oddly high pitched –

 _Oh shit_.

The kid.

The rotund little chubster who should have been home _hours_ ago but was unhappily stuck in the middle of the mess and whose mere fucking _presence_ made things ever more uncertain and potentially more tragic if the whole scene went wrong.

Not that the armed raider paid much attention as he roared another order out.

"Get down on the ground."

The sound of rubber soles on linoleum followed and their squeaking gave Dean the perfect cover to move, which he did like a ninja or some sort of assassin traveling with speed on the balls of his toes. He closed the distance by keeping to the shelving which towered up high keeping him well out of sight.

That was their ace card.

He was their salvation.

But first he had to know what he was going up _against_ which meant slowly charting a careful path back again and finding a vantage point to scope it all out.

"Get down, quickly, hands where I can see them."

The _Jesse James_ wannabe was still barking orders out and continuing to use their distraction as a cover, Dean flattened against some teddy bears and moved towards the sound, stopping as he got to the end of the aisle closest and then dropping to his haunches before poking his head out.

 _Crap._

Every last person that had been scanning the store with them – mother, child, couple, businessman and girl – had all been corralled into the middle of the floor tiles and then forced to sit down in a huddle on the ground. Seth and Roman were cross-legged amongst them but positioned with care on the edges looking out, each of them tense in instinctive _police mode_ and determined to try and protect everyone else.

Idiots.

"Stay there, stay there _do not_ move."

The very shouty gunman was having a blast and for the first time Dean could get a sense of his appearance, not to mention his girth and his build.

The guy could best be described by the word _muscular_ although the rest of him was decidedly less impressive than that, with a clean shaven head that near reflected the damn _ceiling_ above some sort of aborted looking beard-based fluff.

There was a vein on his head which stuck out like a mountain range and then met with a big bundle more above his brow and there was something arrogant and confident about him which he showcased by swaggering his way around the group, leering down and then chuckling eerily which made the snobbish mother hiccup out a frightened gasp,

"Easy," Seth murmured from his position alongside her, "Just keep calm, it's gonna be fine."

But clearly she wasn't in any state to be mollified because she simply moaned louder and clung onto her child, although in terms of pure interest the hostage taker wasn't listening as he instead licked his lips at the cashier,

"Hey pretty girl."

She shuddered in response – her whole body shaking – and then tried to drop her gaze to a point beyond his toes. What he was trying to do was debatable but as he moved in closer Roman did too, shifting across until he was virtually _glued_ to her and then putting an arm out to block the next step,

"Don't even think about touching her jackass."

 _Meathead_ blinked,

"Don't tell me what to do. _I'm_ the one that's got the gun here, remember?"

Roman peered up, his dark gaze stormy and on the cusp of turning into something much worse which would not have been good for their fucked situation or, for that matter, his general health –

Well, unless he _enjoyed_ looking like a colander every time he went to have himself a drink.

Dean tensed visibly then noticed Seth watching him, fingers waving knowingly.

 _Dean stay down._

He was right.

Crashing in like an idiot wouldn't help them but at the same time doing nothing was _agonizingly_ hard. He couldn't just sit there while Roman got whaled on – which was pretty much what he figured was about to go down – but then neither could he charge in unarmed and swinging without being blown away within the first yard.

Seth waved his fingers again.

 _Stay calm Dean._

What the fuck else _could_ he do but try?

Fortunately however Roman didn't get trampled because from somewhere within the middle of the captives there was a grumble preceded by a haughty sounding cough as the coat-wearing businessman clambered upright with his hands raised before rolling his wrist over to check a gold watch,

"Look, I doubt we _all_ need to be here and the meter for my car is about to run out, so maybe I – ,"

He stopped again with a whimper as a gun was pointed with purpose at his face and Seth reached across and grabbed the coat roughly, half- _hauling_ the idiot back down onto his knees.

 _Meathead_ growled,

"Not one person leaves here."

"What about my little baby?"

Everyone blinked.

The voice belonged to the mother with _The Karate Kid_.

The oversized eight year old with chocolate smeared about him and who was frankly so far from being a _baby_ that her wail of a plea made several of them grunt,

"Huh?"

"Little?" _Meathead_ snorted in response to her, evidently thinking pretty much the same thing, "That kid of yours ain't exactly _little_."

She stiffened in affront,

"It's a glandular thing."

"Sure it is. You too I'm guessing?"

For a moment it seemed like she would try to fight back or maybe even bring up the dreaded phrase _puppy fat_ but at the criminal's expression she shut up.

 _Thank fuck for that._

But with the tangent on childhood obesity over _John Dillinger Lite_ could move onto other things and realizing that those _things_ meant grabbing the cash and hauling out of there, Dean sucked a breath in and tried to form a scheme.

Calling the police was obviously pointless since whatever he said would more than likely be heard but he _could_ still text and one number in particular seemed like a more than sensible bet. He found her in his contacts listed as _Il Duce_ – having recently been changed from _Wicked Witch of the_ West – and pinged her a brief but no less urgent message that ended with a caps-lock-on shout.

SEND MORE COPS.

He didn't hang around to wait for her answer, simply trusting their commissioner to get the job done, besides which there were other concerns newly building.

 _Meathead was apparently_ back on the run.

"You – ,"

Stomping forward he gestured to the shop girl and in response she ducked behind Roman a little more, since their resident powerhouse was still sitting tight against her and unmoving like the veritable statue that he was. Dean and Seth exchanged a quick look again, mentally parroting the exact same few words,

 _Stay still uce, stay still and keep cool here._

It was debatable whether or not he would.

The big dog's hackles were drawn up wolf-like and he glared at the robber with murder in his eyes.

"I thought I told you to keep your hands away from her."

 _Meathead_ waved the gun,

"Shut up."

"Hey – ," Seth barked, "Calm the hell down man."

It wasn't aimed at the villain but at his brother instead with frustration in his voice and on hearing it Roman sighed as if he knew he was pushing things and reluctantly dropped his head.

 _Meathead_ grinned,

"Good move."

Then he stepped closer and shunted Roman back roughly before pulling the terrified assistant to her feet. With Seth's eyes continuing to burn a hole into his temple their Big Dog fortunately stayed where he was but even _Dean_ flinched when the girl let out a whimper because _god_ the frightened note was a horrible sound. Besides which it went against the fibre of their being as well as their career motto.

 _Protect and serve_.

Still if all the guy wanted was the register then it was better to give it to him and then let the fucker scram. Which was probably precisely what _would_ have then happened had the damn steroidal idiot not swiped hard at her ass.

 _Thwack._

" _Hey_."

Roman erupted at the exact same moment that the startled blonde let out a yelp, surging to his feet and pulling the girl back again before tucking her behind him and staring the gun down.

Brave, brave Roman.

 _Stupid_ fucking Roman.

The situation was a powder keg waiting to go off and was the worst part of it was that Dean couldn't help them since the three of them were off duty and therefore unarmed.

Because who brought a _weapon_ to go Christmas shopping?

Well, apart from _him_ from that point on.

Blowing a breath out he dropped his shoulders against the shelving and then thumped in frustration at the ledge behind his head, struggling to figure out how the hell he could help things and accidentally jolting a box beside his ear.

Huh?

He blinked in surprise as his blue eyes scanning the writing and then grinned with the tentative first firings of a plan.

 _Imitation Handguns_.

Which at a glance passed for real ones.

Or okay, maybe not _real_ exactly but at the same time they were undeniably good and in the general sense of heightened tension and panic the clumsy plastic joins would be easy to overlook. All Dean had to do was hold one with swagger and hope that _Meathead_ didn't study it too close. To aid that image further he pulled free his old detective badge then grabbed a plastic firearm and stood up.

 _Game on_.

Flapping open the leather-bound wallet he let his glossy police badge go first as he stepped back out into the middle of the toy store with a throwaway order,

"Hands up asshole, get 'em up."

With everyone turned towards the Roman based staredown, Dean's entrance momentarily passed by without note, although his gruff sounding grumble swiftly rectified that problem –

If anything, as it turned out, a little _too_ well.

Because despite all the odds – for an oversized moron – their pointy headed robber could move pretty fast and on seeing the firearm pointing over in his direction, he shot out a hand and hauled Roman back.

 _Damn_.

In the time it took to blink the gun was pressed to his temple and there was a big ass old arm tight around Roman's neck. _Meathead_ was peering out over his shoulder and in terms of height and bulk they were surprisingly well matched.

Dean glowered warningly,

"Better let him go man."

He levelled the replica at the criminal's head, watching as Roman's gaze flickered very mildly, wondering where his best friend had grabbed a weapon from.

Good.

That was good.

Because if he could fool _Roman_ then making _Meathead_ believe that the thing was a real one hopefully wouldn't be so hard. Seth too – still sitting on the ground with the captives – blinked in astonishment for a second or more but being a little closer he was able to see better and Dean knew the moment the younger man caught on.

 _Oh._

 _Meathead_ growled,

"What the hell is this now?"

Dean held his badge up,

"You're under arrest."

It was a pretty ballsy opener and the robber sort of frowned at it like he couldn't quite figure what the sentence had meant.

 _Me arrest?_

 _What's that?_

 _Pretty kitty_.

Dean pressed on regardless,

"He's one as well."

He gestured to Roman but kept his voice even, not wanting the felon to take fright at the fact and do something angry or impossibly stupid which he wouldn't have put past the pointy bald head.

"You're fucking _cops_?"

Seth stood up carefully, his hands still raised up in a non-threatening pose,

"Make that three man, you're kind of outnumbered, probably best if you just let him go."

To further the point Dean stepped in towards them, shifting his fingers to cover up the plastic joins. He needed the thing to look as real as possible otherwise he risked fucking the rescue plan up. Their attempt to save Roman was balanced on a knife edge and each of them knew it.

The big man as well.

Roman's warm eyes burnt a hole through his brother in a deeply woven mixture of anger and suspense. Neither of those things belonged there – not _one_ of them – and they burnt through Dean bodily until they physically hurt.

 _Fuck._

Roman had _kids_ and a family to go home to and people who were expecting him come on Christmas day. Not to mention two antsy _best friends come younger brothers_ who were staring down his captor and trying desperately to save his life

"Come on already man," Seth offered evenly and likely a whole _hell_ of a lot calmer than he felt, "Make the right choice here and put down the weapon, it's the only way to make this whole thing easier on yourself."

Dean stepped in again drawing _Meathead's_ attention and although the felon stiffened something flickered in him as well, almost like a deep and bitter sense of recognition that whatever he did he simply wasn't going to win.

He was a fraction of a second away from giving in to them.

Then a siren blasted loudly and it all went to hell.

As the ear-splitting noise rolled in around the toy store with the accompanying intermittent flash of lights as well, the captor swung sharply towards the double entry doors, towing Roman with him and tightening his hold.

"Shit – ,"

At the exact same moment that he spun round however, the businessman decided to make a break from the ground, launching to his feet and surging forward towards freedom while managing to forget that the double doors were locked. He thudded into them hard and bounced backwards making a surprised and very audible sounding –

 _Oof_.

In a panic _Meathead_ swung the barrel in his direction and twitched his trigger finger ready to shoot.

"No – ,"

Seth stepped in to try and grab the businessman and in the sudden mounting chaos, Roman abruptly chose to shift, throwing himself forwards and tipping Meathead off balance before swinging around and delivering a punch to the face.

 _Crack._

Whether the break was a nose or a cheekbone was debatable and probably irrelevant as well. What _was_ important though was that _Meathead_ reeled backwards and then swung up the gun with a scream of pure rage.

It wasn't a careful or well-aimed motion – more a wild attempt to cause general harm – but through some vague awareness it was still trained on his adversary and the knowledge grabbed Dean's heart and held it firm.

" _Roman_ – ,"

He was moving before he was even aware of it and seemingly before anyone _else_ knew it too, crossing the space like a champion derby winner and launching towards the felon in a wrestling worthy spear.

The contact when it came was hard and pretty brutal with power enough to shunt them both back. There was a gun somewhere near him a split second away from firing but beyond saving his brother Dean didn't much care. Although he certainly _heard_ it go off a fraction later and _felt_ as its kickback shuddered down between his bones.

" _Dean_."

The shout belonged to either Seth or Roman but through the ringing in his ears the lawman couldn't really tell and nor was he inclined to spend time trying to decipher it since he was still locked with _Meathead_ and still on the decline.

With the force of the spear propelling them onwards both Dean and the robber staggered back across the floor, hitting a well-stocked display table by the checkout and flipping up over it before thudding to the floor.

They landed in a tangle of limbs and flailing body parts with _Meathead's_ chin glancing clean off Dean's skull and sending his vision into a bright burst of starlight which mingled with the darkness as he was almost knocked out. He crumpled to the floor and landed on his ribcage which forced the air almost entirely from his lungs and then lay with his cheek on the linoleum coughing in both wheezy addlement and lingering alarm.

"Dean – ,"

There it was again.

The voice above the whistling which continued to assault the inner axis of his ears and rendered everything thing else a buzzy mumble although the sentiments at least were achingly clear.

Hands fell down on his shoulders and rolled him over, being none too gentle in their ham-fisted approach and easily singling them out as being _Seth's_ hands as did the voice by his ear.

"Where were you hit?"

"What?" Dean mumbled, trying to push him off again as fingers scrabbled to unzip his coat.

"Where did it get you?"

"Get me?"

"The _bullet_ ," Seth barked urgently, "Come on man, you've been shot."

The panicky statement filtered in through his eardrums at exactly the same moment that his foggy vision cleared, delivering the image of _both_ of his teammates crouched across him looking worried.

There were red streaks on Seth's hands.

"Not _been_ shot," Dean grumbled trying to right himself but Roman kept him down with his palms,

"Easy now."

Seth was still rifling through the folds of Dean's clothing like he was looking for buried treasure,

"You're bleeding, yes you have."

As he turned his head to the right in dissention and once again attempted to try and struggle up, Dean's spinning eyes landed suddenly on _Meathead_ who was lying unmoving pretty much by his side. Clearly the collision with the top of Dean's cranium – hard headed like the rest of him – had fully knocked him out and so the threat at least had finally been nullified even if the evident worry had not.

Seth in particular was almost apoplectic which carried in his tones,

"I can't find it man."

But in searching for what Dean assumed was an entry wound what his teammates _weren't_ doing was looking around and in particular at the substance spattered brightly on the linoleum which he blinked at a few times before realizing.

 _Oh._

"Uh, Seth?"

"You're alright, you're alright man."

"It's paint."

Seth stared back blankly in confusion,

"It's what?"

"Paint," Dean grunted because _fuck_ he was achy and being prodded and pawed wasn't much of a help. Both Seth and Roman's eyes slid sideways towards the mess of vivid pigments and then the younger man sighed,

"Oh thank god."

Even then he continued to poke about however, making sure once and for all that there wasn't any blood. Typical Seth really, always over-antsy and working at approximately a million miles per hour. Roman on the other hand seemed thankfully more contented and simply grinned down at him, still pinning him beneath a palm. The warmth of his hand was comfortable and grounding and so Dean let it rest there while his senses returned.

"Had us worried uce."

"Says the man who had a gun on him."

Roman winked roguishly,

" _Nah_ knew you'd pull something off."

Somewhere in the background the sirens became louder and then the patrol cars themselves came screeching up in front, all burning rubber and gleaming white chassis although moments too late to be of any real help.

Seth stopped pawing and blinked at the cavalry before shooting Dean a look,

"You manage to call Steph?"

"Told her to send the troops round pronto."

"Looks like she heard you," Roman grinned fondly, ruffling his hair, "Quick thinking babe."

Reaching a hand down the big dog hauled him upright and then steadied his shoulders as Dean's world briefly spun.

" _Whoa_."

In the interim Seth went and checked in on _Meathead_ by pressing his fore and middle fingers against his neck evidently finding a steady thumping pulse point before giving him a quick once over for any bullet marks.

None.

So wherever the gunshot had whipped itself off to it at least hadn't hit any fleshy living thing or at least they certainly _hoped_ it hadn't as Seth decided to make absolutely clear.

"Everyone alright?"

He was asking the hostages and they answered wide eyed with a series of silent nods. The sweet little grandmother was mildly crying but more than likely it was driven by the joyous relief and nor was she the only one releasing her emotions since the Upper West Side mother had also started to blub. Even the _businessman_ seemed to be choked up although honestly what he _should_ have been looking was abashed since his plainly _stupid_ decision to make a break for it had landed them all in the latter stages of the shit. Still, being held at gunpoint before Christmas was probably enough to make anyone wild and so Dean couldn't really harangue the guy too much. Shit like getting captured was tough on _policemen_ so for regular civilians it was sometimes too much. Besides, it was over and everyone was safe again which made it way easier to let it all go.

If Roman had been shot though?

Dean didn't need to think it.

The businessman asshole would have been meeting his fist.

As the first of the uniformed cops made the doorway and started to bang with theirs fists on the glass, Seth clambered onto his feet with Dean's badge up and slowly and cautiously edged across the floor.

"Don't get shot man," Dean chirped gruffly watching one of Seth's raised hands flip him the bird.

From beside him Roman chuckled back broadly and the sound rumbled through him and flooded the whole store, acting like a familiar backbeat at a nightclub or a song from Dean's childhood that he always loved to hear.

Roman was safe.

Roman was laughing.

All was very very right with the world.

"Um, hey, you guys?"

There was a voice from behind them and they turned as one towards the blushing shop girl. Her hair was in slight disarray from all the chaos and she still looked flighty and a little overwhelmed but she was handling it better than either one of them would have bet on which made Dean snort a little.

 _You go girl._

"What can we do for you baby girl?" Roman rumbled, his voice like honey all easy and smooth.

"I – uh – I wanted to thank you for saving me,"

Roman smiled magnanimously,

"All part of the job, besides it's my brother over here you _should_ be thanking, he's the real hero."

Dean squirmed,

"M' not."

But unfortunately for him his best friend wasn't budging and seemed to have hit on an idea that he liked. Taking Dean's shoulders he massaged them roughly then slapped him a little too hard on the arm,

"Don't let those dimples fool you neither, my boy here's a killer, he's got them on the _run_."

Possibly as a result of having been held hostage – at _gunpoint_ no less – the big man was fired up, posturing and pumped with a flood of raw adrenaline that evidently wasn't showing any signs of cooling off. Dean scratched a hand along the back of his neck awkwardly and then rubbed at Roman's arm with the ball of his palm, much like he was trying to polish a spot of grease out but actually trying to make him calm the fuck down.

"Easy uce, this ain't – like – the _oscars_ or nothin', no one's winnin' an award here, alright?"

The shop assistant grinned at them,

"Well, not an _oscar_ but you can certainly have whatever you like."

"Huh?"

Dean's response was both baffled and ineloquent which made her giggle a little bit more although frankly she could have positively _roared_ at them and they wouldn't have much minded.

It was just nice to see her smile.

"Yep, pick anything you like off the shelves and I'll let you have it – it's the _least_ I can do."

Dean blinked,

"Anythin'?"

He knew what he wanted and when the teenager nodded he swiftly took off.

"Uce?"

Roman went with him in what was probably bewilderment but Dean was moving fast so he could barely keep up. The copper blonde was racing with purpose towards his target which was located in the corner at the back of the store and hidden behind the more mainstream playthings.

At least until Dean pointed at it eagerly,

" _There_."

Roman frowned,

"Uh, what exactly am I looking at?"

Dean huffed a breath out,

"Pirate boat."

"What?"

Following the outstretched digit of his teammate, Roman's eyes landed on a sizeable plastic ship, complete with rigging and a motley crew of characters who were all brightly painted and wearing teeny tiny grins which were nicely crafted and probably brilliant –

Provided you were an actual _kid_.

Still, Dean seemed utterly and totally enchanted and his excitement was so childlike that it made Roman smile, watching as his best friend swept the item off the shelving and hugged it possessively close against his chest.

"Don't you mean _ship_ uce?"

Dean snorted roughly,

"Nope, it's mine and _I_ say _boat_."

Reaching a hand out Roman rubbed at Dean's neckline and massaged familiar fingers along his nape. Dean rolled his shoulders a little and then leant into it and in response the older man's kneading became more deep. Sometimes with Dean it was like having a puppy which was never more apparent than when he was giddy with glee. Who would have thought a plastic _pirate ship_ could do that? But then again he doubted Dean had owned one before.

Doubted he had _ever_ owned a toy worth coveting.

Which broke Roman's heart.

"Last chance uce."

"Huh?"

Blue eyes swung up to meet his own in bewilderment and the bigger man grinned and then purposefully mussed the hair. In response to it Dean huffed out a breath of irritation before correcting it one-handed still juggling his ship.

"Come home with me for Christmas."

His teammate froze instantly and peered up with caution,

"Thought I already said no."

"Yeah," Roman shrugged, "Back before you saved my ass you did, but now you _gotta_ come."

They both knew that was a lie.

Roman would have kept on asking regardless of Dean having tackled an armed madman or not. Except now he had been given another angle to work with and he was damn well going to give it his best shot.

Dean let out a sigh,

"You don't want me there, trust me."

Roman frowned back in surprise,

"Why not?"

" _Because_ I get all sad and sorta _grumpy_ and I wouldn't wanna – like – drag everybody down."

He was staring intently at his toes as he answered as if still grieving for his fiancée was a somehow shameful thing, like he expected to be told to _get over it already_ or was embarrassed about shunning the happiest time of the year.

 _Dean, Dean, Dean._

Roman blew a little snort out and then lifted his other hand so he was cupping his brother's chin. Blue eyes focused in on him swimming with emotion and the bigger man smiled,

"Don't care if you're sad."

"But what if I ruin – ,"

"You won't ruin anything, besides, I want you there _however_ you are."

Dean blinked a little and then snorted in amusement but it was sort of _bashful_ too and hesitant,

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Roman nodded, "Come on uce, you're _family_."

He paused for a second,

"Can I bring my boat?"

Despite the importance and depth of the moment, Roman couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh, at Dean being so utterly god damn _Dean-like_ and accepting the invitation without having to say the words.

"Sure uce, bring it, we'll set it up in the guest room."

Dean grinned back at him, the apprehension gone,

He had a ship, two brothers and a place to spend the holidays.

Maybe Christmas this year wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

 **Merry Christmas everybody, hope you all get cool pirate boats (ships) like Dean does too! Any guesses for who the gunman was?**

 **Next week's story sees the return of…wait for it...keeping waiting...just a little longer...BO! So hold onto your hats for that one because as usual he brings disaster in his wake!**


	7. Seeing Double

**Okay, so, is everyone ready for Bo? This one is mostly because I missed the big idiot but also based on a Skovko idea because she wanted an appearance by the Bellas. Here you go! Also, this story is set in a slightly earlier time frame...let me know what you think!**

 **Cherry619, Dorky Dean is just one more version of him to love! As for the gunman? Head on down to the bottom to find out who it was. Also, stay tuned for Paul Heyman in the very next story!**

 **Guest, Hey there, thanks for reviewing the last two installments, super glad you liked them both! Have to put a little fluff into each story. Cute moments between the boys are what I like best!**

 **Irishfan62, Oooh, extra points, you guessed right on the gunman side of things! As for Bo? Well, naturally he causes chaos but at least this time he isn't breaking the law…**

 **Mandy, How was RAW? I totally agree about Dean being a rockstar and in real life too. Also hopefully in this next installment which is a little something different (I hope!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Oh my goodness, the** _ **bad luck no luck**_ **saying is literally my life! As for Bo? Well, he's Bo so you know there's going to be trouble of** _ **some**_ **sort...though maybe not what you're thinking!**

 **Wwe21, The Undertaker is an idea I have tucked away in my back pocket for the next full length Shield story if I ever get around to writing the thing! Randy and Batista? Never say never!**

 **Skovko, Glad you're looking forward to Bo because there's a lot of him and his puppy features here being all crazy and annoying and cute! Hope you like the shenanigans.**

 **Minnie1015, Thanks for the hugs. Kind of tough here but just got to keep on keeping on I guess. Glad you're prepared to read anything Dean based I write though. Reviews make me smile!**

 **Debwood-1999, Dean off wandering when everything goes down, yep, that's our boy! Also, your gunman guess was totally right! As for sales shopping? Ugh. Not a big fan of being jostled around!**

 **Ninjoy, Full points! Ryback was totally the gunman! Glad you liked protective Roman and fussy, mother-hen Seth! Also glad you're excited Bo's back so without further ado, here the puppy is…**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Whoop whoop! Glad you liked my Christmas special and all of the obligatory bromance feels! Couldn't resist bringing Bo back again, I missed his stupidity!**

 **Kirrak, Hi, nice to have you with us. I'm a shameless Dean girl too (you may have picked up on that by now!) Thanks for the compliments. If you're interested I've got other Dean stories too, so if you get bored of waiting for updates here, feel free to check 'em out (super awkward self-promotion!)**

 **So, twin magic then, here we go!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Seeing Double**

In order to get from the precinct to the restaurant, Dean broke about every traffic law known to man, gunning red lights and slaloming pedestrians in a desperate race to respond to the text, which had flashed up on his cell phone not five minutes earlier and sent him into a head-long sprint towards his car.

 _Detective Ambrose. Need help. Hurry. Latino Heat Restaurant. Big trouble. Bo._

The damn thing had read like a fucking _morse-code_ deal but the meaning had been clear if the sentencing had not and so Dean had wasted little time in burning rubber there.

What had the idiot puppy done now?

In his head Dean had visions of Bo in some mob scene about to be given a pair of concrete boots or maybe having stumbled across some alien invasion plans or possibly having found a cat up a tree.

With the always beaming man _big trouble_ could have been anything which meant that Dean never knew what to expect and so as he parked his car – well, more _abandoned_ it kerbside – he dropped his fingers to his holster and surreptitiously kept them there.

"Fuckin' Bo."

It needed to be said.

 _The Latino Heat Restaurant_ was a new and vibrant eatery which had opened its doors just a few weeks before, which Dean only knew because Sergeant Flair had visited on what was just _one_ of his many recent dates. _Mexican fusion_ was how he had described it which Dean had thought was a description of his date but evidently the women in question had been from Michigan and his boss had instead been discussing the food type.

Had Dean had anybody to actually go and eat with aside from his workmates – most of whom he didn't like – then he might have been inclined to check it out in person but ever since _her_ he'd stuck to bars and takeout.

Contrary to what seemed like popular opinion, he was definitely not _back on the horse_ yet and honestly wasn't sure he ever really would be. There was no other woman in the world who could match her and he knew that so fiercely he didn't even want to look.

Always and forever there would only be _her_.

Not that thinking about the love of his life as he headed into _trouble_ was much of a help and so reluctantly he forced her smiling face from his vision and pushed through the doors into the lobby.

"Detective!"

Sure enough, there was Bo, looking equal parts delighted and stressed all at once. The former of those emotions was by no means a new one but the latter was slightly less frequent for him and the sight of it made Dean's police brain flicker with instinctive professionalism,

"Where's the fire Bo?"

"Fire? There isn't – there isn't a _fire_."

"It's a metaphor."

"What?"

Dean growled,

" _What's wrong Bo_?"

Three seconds in and he was already hankering to reel back and punch the guy in the face, except for the fact that he would never fucking do it because the idiot in front of him was –

Well, it was _Bo_.

A god damn _lamb_ in a pen full of carnivores skipping around merrily and singing happy songs, all the while poking at various sleeping lions, then waving and asking why their teeth were so long. Only suddenly _Dean_ was in the form of the lion and Bo was poking and then poking some more.

"It's terrible Detective Ambrose."

"What is?"

"My problem."

Dean's face twitched almost violently,

" _Which is what_?"

To be honest he was approaching the point of not caring and fast gearing up to just tell the guy so. But then Bo spat out what appeared to be the _trouble_ and replaced the building anger with bewilderment,

"Her sister's here."

"Huh? What the hell are you talkin' about? _Whose_ sister?"

Bo stepped back and then beckoned Dean near, flapping a frantic hand in his direction and then pointing from the lobby straight across the restaurant floor.

" _There_."

Despite himself Dean did as instructed and quizzically peered across the tables,

"Alright, where?"

Bo moved in closer and put an arm on his shoulder which Dean very rapidly and decisively shook off. Not that the younger man seemed to much notice as he jabbed a chubby finger towards two women by the far wall.

 _Wow_.

Dean had to hand it to the kid, he'd picked a winner or at least he had on looks as best he could tell. The woman who was facing them had nice but friendly features which were framed beneath straight brown hair she wore long. If Dean was honest – but very much in the brutal sense – then at first glance she looked fairly out of Bo's league, which was possibly why the guy in front of him was sweating like a sprinkler.

It was not a good look.

The other woman seemingly occupying the table was sitting directly opposite the first with her back turned towards them as she chatted to the nice girl which meant Dean couldn't gauge much about her at all. She had the same hair though – long brown and glossy – which seemed to tie in with Bo's whole _sister_ thing but what Dean couldn't fathom was why the situation was one which required the police –

Meaning _him_.

Bo shook his head and sighed heavily,

"You see my problem?"

Dean snorted roughly,

"Not really man, no."

"But – but there's _two_ of them."

"Which is not against the law dude, I mean, provided you're all _consentin'_ y' know?"

For a second Bo merely stared back in confusion as if he couldn't imagine what the lawman might mean although when understanding kicked in it did so bodily and he positively gasped in astonishment,

"Oh _no_ I would never – that's bad – not with two _at the same time_."

He whispered the last part which was kind of adorable, like the guy was some sort of honorary nun. Some days it was nothing short of utterly improbable that Bo Dallas had been raised on the same mean streets as him. Hell, half the time Dean felt as if the kid had been abandoned by some deeply peaceful and as yet undiscovered alien race because he simply wasn't authentically _human_.

At least not in the general _Suplex City_ sense.

But in spite of Bo's resident alien status and the fact he seemed averse to some two-on-one love, there was no real reason for Dean to even _be_ there and so he sighed in a measure of general frustration and unwound his fingers from the holster of his gun.

" _This_ is why you called me?"

Bo nodded,

"I'm in trouble."

Dean blew out a growl of frustration.

 _Damn it all._

"C' mon, I thought you were bein' held hostage or witnessin' a murder or some shit, y' know?"

Bo blinked back at him in genuine confusion,

"Why would you think that?"

Dean held out his phone, bringing up the text the man had sent just minutes earlier and indicating each little worrisome word.

 _Big trouble._

 _Hurry._

 _Need help._

"Remember writin' that?"

Bo leant in towards it for a second and then gasped,

"Oh, I – I get it now, it sounds like I'm in danger."

Dean inhaled a steadying breath and shut his eyes,

"Pretty much man, pretty much."

"Whoops, hope I didn't bother you too much."

In response to the worried expression Dean grunted but held the retort he was tempted to let fly. Partly because he doubted Bo would understand it but also because Dean was oddly fond of the kid. Despite how completely _frustrating_ he was sometimes.

Or, okay –

Maybe _all_ of the time.

Somewhere over back at the table the woman who was facing them threw her head back and laughed, the sound both feminine but also sort of _innocent_ and in response to it Bo's eyes turned heart-shaped in his head.

He sighed,

"She's so beautiful, I'm super lucky."

"Where'd you meet her?"

Realistically Dean should have been making his excuses and heading back to the precinct and his actual job. But in spite of that something in Dean felt incredulous as to how Bo's new and unlikely romance had come about besides which if he ever _did_ decide to try and date again then it probably wouldn't hurt to have a few handy tips.

"Pawn shop."

Dean blinked.

 _Wow_ , _romantic_.

"She buyin' or sellin'?"

Bo shook his head,

"I didn't ask."

He wasn't even looking in Dean's direction as he answered, too busy staring at the women with love. Frankly it was kind of _cute_ watching it happen, like seeing a kid brother with his first ever crush.

"You get her number?"

"I asked her to marry me."

Dean coughed a little in astonishment,

"Right _there_?"

Bo nodded absently, still sort of _gooey_ ,

"She said I had to take her out to dinner before that."

Dean snorted roughly and threw his brows skywards but once again swiftly bit back his retort because honestly he had no real grounds to mock him since – of the two of them – Bo at least _had_ a date. So instead therefore Dean simply clapped him on the shoulders and beamed like an overly proud father,

"Nice work."

"You think?"

"Uh huh, you done real good man, so I guess I'll be leavin' you lovebirds to it now – ,"

Bo's expression widened in horror,

"You – you can't stay?"

"For what?"

"For the meal."

"Why in the hell would I stay for _that_?"

Dean wasn't angry, he was genuinely confused and nor was Bo helping by looking so damn shifty which just added to the overall demeanour of _child_. If the man regressed much further he'd be straight back in diapers although fortunately he hadn't lost the power of speech.

Yet.

"For – ," Bo blinked and wet his lips uncertainly, which didn't bode well, "For the sister."

 _Oh god._

As realization hit Dean like a wrecking ball – or something less soft, like a meteor or the plague – he opened his mouth and then shut it again quickly, attempting to find words for the horror he felt.

"Are you fuckin' askin' me to be your _wingman_ here?"

"Wingman," Bo beamed, like they were finally on the same page, " _That's_ the word."

Dean shook his head,

" _No_ – no man, I can't, that's not gonna happen."

The kid deflated like a beach ball,

"Why not?"

" _Because_ – ," Dean grumbled fully incredulous and frankly disbelieving that he was having to spell it out, "I'm the law and you're my informant, which means you and I do not _double date_."

"Oh."

It would possibly have been kinder to reel off and kick him which Dean was still half tempted to do, but in the end he simply sucked an even breath in and tried to explain,

"Bo – ,"

"I – I understand."

Although truthfully if the kid's head dropped any lower then the damn thing would have been snuffling along on the _ground_ and in response to it something in Dean sort of flickered in an uncharacteristic familial warmth.

 _Jesus Christ_.

"Fine."

Bo's head shot up spring-like and the little eyes widened in hope,

"You'll stay?"

"For one drink, y' hear me? I'm _not_ bein' your wingman, m' just takin' five and havin' a break here."

"You're the _best_ – ,"

"Bo – ,"

But the protest became suddenly meaningless as the smaller man surged in and wrapped him up in a hug. As in a genuine _body-to-body-half-bear-grip_ with the round little face pressed up tight against his shirt.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Get _off_ me."

A couple passing by to get their jackets from the coat check gave them a sideways glance and then smiled, clearly mistaking them for separated lovers or maybe long-lost brothers who were at last meeting up. Either way it was _not_ a look Dean was keen to foster and so he shunted the arms off and pushed the younger man back,

"Bo, for god sakes man, get a damn hold here."

The kid blinked and then nodded,

"Oh, uh – right – I'm okay now."

Although wasn't _that_ a fucking matter of opinion which would probably have taken a well-trained psychiatrist and a mental health nurse about five minutes to dispel? Instead of _say_ that however Dean just sighed at him and waved a weary hand,

"Lead on man, lead on."

For a midweek evening the place was pretty busy with almost every table being turned or taken up. Which was probably why Bo had been stuck in the corner beside the bathrooms and tucked almost entirely behind a plant.

"Great spot, huh?"

"Oh, _yeah_."

It wasn't – not even remotely – but the kid thought it was and so Dean simply followed behind him in silence and tried his level best not to completely freak out.

What the hell was he doing saying _yes_ to this?

What the hell had been going through his mind?

There he was still in the first phase of grieving and he had up and agreed to a fucking _double date_. Not that it was in the conventional sense exactly since he had no intention of striking up a romance, but in every other way he was basically _betraying_ her –

When her beautiful body was barely cold in the ground.

 _Shit, fuck, shit._

He was a horrible fiancée and an even worse excuse for a recently bereaved man and the vortex of hatred was still swirling rapidly as they drew in towards the table and the women looked up.

The two identical, mirror image women.

Dean stopped dead,

"Are you shittin' me?"

"Huh?"

" _Twins_?"

For a second Bo merely frowned back at him like he didn't understand what the question might mean, although slowly he seemed to clue into what was happening and his little eyes widened,

" _Oh_ – didn't I say?"

Dean glared back at him,

"No you fuckin' didn't."

"Oops."

Dean let loose a self-pitying groan.

How did he get himself into such messes? _Regularly_ as well like he fucking searched them out.

If _she_ had been there she would have probably giggled and called him an idiot with that teasing tone he'd loved, the one that had made her nose scrunch up a little and her delicate little shoulders ripple with mirth.

 _Fuck._

That was it –

It couldn't be a date because how in the world would he ever get over _her_?

Impossible.

There would never be another woman like her and that _included_ the clones who were watching them draw close. Or that is to say at least _one_ of them was watching. The other one seemed surgically attached to her phone, doing the whole _one-finger-in-the-ear_ thing to make herself heard above the chatter in the room.

"Screw you John, we broke up, remember?"

Dean blinked.

 _Perfect_.

What could possibly go wrong?

He was about to sit down to a meal with his informant, his date and her seemingly _furious_ twin. Nothing professionally blurry about _that_ one.

Nope.

Nothing career threatening about it _at all_.

Still, at least one of the women seemed stable – by which he meant not screaming obscenities down the phone – and Bo crossed towards her grinning like an idiot before taking her hands like a semi-precious stone.

"Brie this is my very good friend Detective Ambrose – Detective Ambrose, this is my Brie."

 _My Brie._

That was a cutesy addition and despite himself he smiled,

"Nice to meet you, call me Dean."

In many ways it was just a regular meeting lessened only by their fourth member bellowing at her phone, in a conversation that seemed near its zenith based on the average levels of volume, pitch and tone.

"Well maybe if you'd manned up and bought me a ring – ,"

Brie winced slightly,

"That's Nicole."

 _Right_.

"And so how do you two gals know each other?"

Dean's pretty lame but effective attempt at humor briefly succeeded in lifting the mood and Brie even giggled until Bo leaned in closer and answered the question for her,

"They're _twins_."

God damn it Bo.

Dropping down into a seat with an eye roll landed him right beside the shrill and screaming one, who was still in the midst of her overly pitchy showdown and inhaling margaritas like they were going out of style.

"Screw you John, I _am_ on a date."

Dean flinched visibly.

 _Not_ a date.

 _Fuck_.

In response to it Brie promptly cleared her throat in warning and glared across the table with a levelled gaze,

" _Nicole_ – ,"

Unfortunately however in terms of comprehension or plain _give a fucks_ she could have spoken to the wall, because instead of take the hint her shouty sibling got louder,

"I'll prove it."

Then suddenly she ended the call.

Brie slumped back in her seat,

"Thank goodness."

But her relief was short-lived because her sister wasn't done and the next thing they knew she had lurched across the table and wrapped an arm around Dean's neck, pulling him in close,

" _Smile_."

"The fuck – ,"

There was a flash of blinding light and Dean cursed again sharply as the pinprick of brightness stung at his eyes,

 _Crap_.

Technically speaking he could have probably pulled his gun on her for assaulting a police officer but he resisted the urge and instead cleared the spots from his vision in time to witness his manicured assailant jabbing the cell phone button,

" _Sent_."

Brie gazed back across the table top worriedly although Dean noted no one seemed concerned about him,

"What did you do Nicole?"

Dean grunted bitterly.

 _Apart_ from half-blind him and trigger the need for corrective eye surgery? Oh yeah, not much at all.

The object of their attention seemed less fussed however and merely dropped her head back down to her drink, sucking up nearly a gallon of margarita before smacking her lips drunkenly,

"Showed him I was moving on."

"With _me_?"

Dean's splutter came out grumbly yet horrified although Bo merely grinned and offered over a thumbs up, as if randomly getting hit on by inebriated women was the missing puzzle piece to a perfect night out.

Dean's head swam –

 _Not betrayal, not betrayal._

Luckily Nicole merely waved an airy hand,

"Ugh, no, you were just _there_."

She looked disgusted which was hardly reassuring but assuaged the _guilt thing_ and so Dean blew out a breath and slumped heavily against the chair back like a ragdoll as a silence formed around them.

He wished Roman was there.

Even if the big guy _had_ skipped out and left him, it didn't change the fact that Dean missed him like mad and in almost every way that was possibly conceivable from his strong protective presence to his chuckle of a laugh. If _Roman_ had been there it might have been bearable instead of fucking awkward –

Which it totally was.

Somewhere beside him Nicole rattled a sip up and it galvanized her sister into making idle chat, hoping to cover the sounds of frantic sucking as the straw skirted round the empty bottom of the jug,

"So, uh, _detective_ , how did you and Bo meet?"

Dean disguised a groan.

Well wasn't _that_ shaky ground?

He and Bo had met on a drugs bust where her beloved had been one of the insalubrious perps, which wasn't the most wholesome _meet-cute_ story and got worse with the fact that her man was now a grass.

 _Christ_.

For his part Bo merely frowned in bewilderment but Dean could see the moment recognition struck, at which point the piggy little eyes grew wider and his forehead became shiny with a beading of sweat. He had _literally_ the worst poker face in history and his tells were showing brighter than the sun, although Dean at least had experience in truth stretching which he decided to use to save their skins to good effect,

"Bo's kinda _well known_ locally."

It wasn't lying just omitting the part about people thinking the kid was nuts. Still, Brie seemed to lap the line up regardless as she reached across tenderly to tickle Bo's arm and in return he lit up like an overgrown puppy and positively lolled out his tongue in delight,

"Bo's a special man."

It was a glowing assessment but not shared by her sister who snorted in ridicule,

"Please, he's an idiot."

Everyone stopped.

In fact Brie looked almost borderline desolate as if someone had insulted her beautiful newborn child, which in many ways the other woman kind of _had_ done since Bo's mental age was seven.

"Don't _say_ that."

Nicole shrugged idly and let out a drunken snigger,

"Why not? It's true."

Dean frowned,

" _Hey_ – ,"

In fact the only one not bothered by the slur on his character was Bo himself – fucking wide-eyed _man child_ Bo – who was sitting there like he didn't speak the damn language and blinking across at them as happy as a lamb.

Okay, maybe Nicole had a point.

Instead of say that out loud however, Dean attempted to distract her instead, with what he thought would be a much safer tactic,

"Uh, so what do you do?"

"Apart from nurse a broken heart?"

He stiffened on instinct and drew a sharp breath in.

Broken heart?

If only she knew.

"Well actually I _kinda_ meant for a livin' but, uh, this guy must a' done a real number on you, huh?"

Nicole blew a noise out, part derisive, part angry but every last bit of it utterly drunk,

"Five years."

"Five years what?"

"That's how long I was with him, waiting for him to get down on one knee and propose."

Dean winced a little,

"An' m' guessin' he didn't do that?"

"Told me last week that he wasn't the _commitment type_."

Okay, ouch, no wonder she was wasted –

Rings and shit meant a lot to a girl and especially after a period of togetherness that had been as lengthy as theirs clearly had.

Again, big ouch.

"I mean, can you _believe_ him?"

She was actually asking him and Dean faltered,

"Uh, guess not."

Seemingly however he had hit on the right answer because the brunette slapped his forearm and pointed a wobbly finger,

" _Right_?"

Although evidently the effects of having sucked up so much alcohol were starting to do some weird shit to her head, since it suddenly thumped down to land heavily on the table which made both her sister _and_ the cutlery jump.

"Nik – ,"

Even Bo seemed alarmed by the trajectory, which pretty much meant that it _had_ to be bad and as the date broke down – not that Dean was on one – Brie adopted an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry Bobo, I should probably take her home now."

The younger man nodded,

" _Oh_ , that's – um – I understand."

Except there he was again with that fucking _kicked puppy_ deal and in response to it Dean bit out a groan,

 _God damn._

The kid looked like he was physically deflating and adopting a sort of crestfallen slump, which made Dean's wingman senses kick in again, alongside his more reluctant _older brother_ ones.

Seth fucking Rollins.

His original little brother and a man he hadn't thought about in over two years. Or at least not in the familial sense anyway since he _actually_ thought about him nearly every day. Seth _and_ Roman and especially recently in the long lonely months spent since he'd lost _her_. Funny really how losing one person could trigger reflections on everyone lost, because in his case it really _was_ near enough everyone.

There was nobody left for him.

Nobody at all.

Just a dogged determination that life wouldn't beat him and a promise to _her_ that he would keep on keeping on. Still, he couldn't deny that he missed them them all fiercely and the general feeling of having them close, which was possibly why Bo's crushing disappointment was affecting him as weirdly and strongly as it was. Either way he was determined to try and make it better and so he let out a sigh and beat Brie to her feet,

"I'll go,"

"Huh?"

"Gettin' kinda hot in here, I figure she just needs a dose 'a fresh air."

Or possibly an industrial stomach pump and intravenous line although he wisely decided against saying that out loud and instead wrapped his fingers around Nicole's elbow and tugged on it slightly.

She mumbled back at him,

" _Mmm_?"

"C' mon baby girl, up ya get."

He winced visibly as the through and through _Romanism_ just sort of tumbled from his mouth.

 _Baby girl._

 _Roman._

 _Best friend._

 _Brother._

Clearing his throat roughly he tugged a little harder and succeeded in raising Nicole's drunken head, which came up off the table with a suckering of fake tan but left behind the imprint of her lips.

Brie gazed back uncertainly,

"You don't have to you know."

But her tone was clear in hoping that he would and so he simply shrugged like the task was pretty simple and ignored Nicole's half-conscious sounding groan,

"Nah, you two stay here, I got this."

Besides which large parts of his illustrious police career had been picking up and delivering inebriated hordes, many of whom had either injured or else pissed themselves or sometimes on truly joyous occasions _both_. At a glance Nicole didn't seem to have done either and so in that respect things were already a step up, on top of which Bo's grin made it seem worth it. Even though it probably shouldn't have done. After all it was not Dean's job to get attached to him like some stray cat that had turned up at his door. _Hands off_ was the way it went with informants and yet there he was with a saucer of fucking milk. In real terms he was possibly the worst police handler ever but on the plus side he _was_ a kick ass friend.

Not that Bo was his friend –

It was business.

"I _told_ you Detective Ambrose was a great guy."

 _Damn._

Physically extracting Nicole from the restaurant was a slow and arduous ten minute task, that sapped most of the lawman's limited patience and about half the stock he usually kept back in reserve. Not that it was her _fault_ exactly since a pitcher of margaritas would have made anyone buzzed, more that the long unsteady shuffle towards the doorway garnered a near snowstorm of disapproving looks. Like Dean was leading the intoxicated woman to a gaudy sex dungeon and not just out into the air. He almost whipped out his detective badge at one stage to underline the point of _I'm one of the good guys here_ , although Nicole's slouching body needed two hands to stay upright and so he weathered the glaring and simply inched her for the door.

 _Fucking Bo._

Not that the object of his growing antipathy was much help either – color him surprised – merely waving them off like a wife at the dockside or gasping out _oopsie_ when Nicole tripped or fell. Dean wasn't even out of the _restaurant_ before the lovebirds went back making googly eyes meaning that as he finally pushed out onto the sidewalk the only people watching thought he was some sex pest, which was great.

Luckily the fresh air seemed to work quickly and as it hit her round the face Nicole's head snapped back up. She looked confused which wasn't surprising given the amount of tequila she'd imbibed and might have even been sort of _endearing_ along with it if she hadn't then jabbed an accusing finger in his side,

"Who're you?"

"M' Dean, don't ya remember? Breakin' my heart here. M' Bo's detective friend."

"Detective?"

It was the only word she gleaned from the sentence and it set her off blinking in genuine surprise,

"Uh huh, I got – like – a real badge an' everythin'."

Her eyes twinkled suggestively,

"Are you going to lock me up?"

"Uh – ," Dean paused but then surged in to grab her as she stumbled on a tricky patch of thin air, " _Whoa_."

Falling into his arms pretty much _semi-swoonlike_ gave her the perfect access to his face which she used to her advantage by tracing his jawline and humming a little,

"You have nice eyes."

He grunted,

"That right?"

"Yeah, they're all sparkly and just sort of deep and really _kind_."

Her finger slid up to the top of his cheekbone and then lingered there hopefully until he brushed it off again.

"Easy tiger."

"Would you like to kiss me?"

Just like that –

Straight out of the blue and Dean choked out a breath in reply to it then stood feeling numb not knowing what to do, his palms growing sweaty and his heart damn near _hammering_ in a full-bodied and wholly instinctive sort of fear.

 _Betrayal, betrayal, betrayal, betrayal._

"I don't – I mean – my fiancée died."

Fuck.

The words fell out of his mouth without warning and hung in the air like a god damn shroud. Thick and encompassing and hard to shrug off again once it had taken its sobering hold.

Nicole blinked once and then a whole bunch more times as the meaning of the words bored a hole through her skill, perforating even through the layers of drunkenness like a universal language until she let out a gasp,

" _Ohhh_."

Instantly the clumsy attempt at seduction faded away to be replaced by something else, which was characterized by hard patting at his shoulder and then a maternal sort of _rubbing_ up and down his spine, in the sort of gesture of wide eyed pity that he usually went out of his way to avoid.

"Look – ,"

"You poor guy, oh my goodness, that's awful."

Oddly she seemed almost fully sobered up, or at least until the point she gave a violent wobble and nearly ended up on her ass, which would have been the ungraceful outcome had Dean not quickly shot his hand out,

"How 'bout you forget feelin' sorry for me, huh? Focus on – y' know – been' able to stand?"

Nicole let out a grumble,

"But I feel really bad – ,"

Dean shook his head,

"Well then don't. I'll be fine, I mean _yeah_ it hurts and I kinda have moments but I'm gettin' through."

He meant it as well.

Some days he figured his girl would have been proud of him although _she_ would have been proud of him no matter what. Maybe more accurate was that he was proud of _himself_ some days, for not folding completely or just plain giving up. He wasn't really sure where _date day_ came in that or for that matter in the general scheme of things but as it turned out he didn't really have to, since that wasn't what Nicole had actually meant,

" _No_ , I think – I think I'm gonna – ,"

Oh.

Dean barely had the time spin to spin her away from him before she made a weird gurgling noise then _did_ , spewing her guts up a little like a hydrant in full-on, unglamorous, projectile vomit style. The recipient of the off-load was a stainless steel planter, with pretty – well _formerly_ pretty – solar lights, stationed in front of the entrance to the restaurant and beside the frosted glass double-wide doors.

In response to the retching, Dean winced in sympathy – which doubled when she whimpered – and then rubbed her back,

"Easy, let it out – that's it – you're fine. You're not dyin' 'kay? Just feels like you are."

He spoke from experience and years of hangovers which he hadn't had _one_ of since he'd lost _her_. He had known from the start that if he tried to drink through it then with his personality he would swiftly get lost and so the hard stuff had been banished pretty much in its entirety and he had doggedly been sticking to soda instead –

Boring, nothing-y, sober-keeping soda.

Still, he did _not_ miss public throwing up, or the sort of looks Nicole was receiving as she hacked margarita back into the shrubs.

When she was finished she was limp and emotional, sort of slumped on her knees and shaking like mad,

"Here,"

Dean offered a stick of gum out towards her and she took it from him slowly with a trembling hand,

"Thanks."

She didn't look up at him – either couldn't or wouldn't – so his main view was of the back of her head, which bobbed a little bit under the chewing or possibly silent crying, Dean couldn't tell. Either way laddering her pantyhose on the sidewalk was by no means the best way to begin to sober up and so he stepped in closer and hooked his hands beneath her armpits with a chivvying sentence,

"C' mon, up y' get."

That was the moment in which everything went haywire starting with a sudden loud pounding of feet and ending with a _hellacious_ and unexpected sucker punch accompanied by a shout,

"Hey, get off her man."

Stars filled Dean's vision as he went from standing upright to lying flattened across the cold ground, a powerful thumping pulsating along his cheekbone which felt like it had been almost split in half.

What the hell had happened to him anyhow?

Who had taken a swing and what for?

His rattled brain vaguely recalled hands on his collar, spinning him around right into the punch and fearing it was maybe an ex-con with a vendetta he fumbled at his waistband to pull out his gun.

Nicole's gasp of wonder stopped him,

"John?"

Wait, she _knew_ the guy?

"Nikki, baby, you alright?"

Dean grumbled gruffly.

There he was horizontal and _still_ nobody cared about him? Sprawled on the floor with his face on fire and his kneecaps smarting from where he'd hit the dirt? Frankly the night had _not_ gone as expected and that put him in a very dark mood, although mostly confusion won out above the anger and as his spotted vision cleared it revealed what was going on.

Nicole was wrapped in some guy's arms, although _arms_ was probably too mild a term since each bicep was roughly the size of a tree trunk and straining against the sleeves of a lurid colored shirt. His hair was short – like _buzzcut_ army style – but bizarrely he seemed to be dressed like a kid, with knee-length denim shorts, a baseball cap and sneakers in a mash of bright tones that made Dean's eyes hurt.

 _Ugh._

Not that Nicole seemed bothered by the contrast or the obvious attempt at recapturing lost youth as she instead clung onto him much as if she'd been shipwrecked and he was a piece of driftwood she'd floated across.

"John what – what're you doing here?"

"He hurt you?"

"No baby."

 _Punchy Asshole_ blew out a breath and then leaned in until the pair were touching foreheads before taking her manicured fingers in his,

"That picture drove me crazy."

Dean grunted.

So there it was then.

The muscular asshole was the commitment-phobe ex, whom Nicole had sent a selfie to not one hour earlier of she and Dean together on what had _looked_ like a date. No wonder the guy was all pumped up and angsty – although throwing fists around was no way to make friends – and keen to remedy the _crossed-wire_ situation or else punch him back, Dean clambered to his feet, pushing himself up against the steel planter before remembering that thing was still brim-full of sick.

He was perhaps three-quarters of the way to being righted – and idly wondering how things could get worse – when another voice joined in the ever swirling drama and made him groan audibly.

Of fucking _course_.

"Detective Ambrose? Oh my goodness. What happened?"

The one thing that none of them needed.

Bo.

For a moment Dean wondered if maybe he'd heard it or it was simply an effect of the concussion he maybe had, but looking up blew that hope out of the water because – sure enough – there stood the hopeless kid, wide eyed and horrified but also bewildered, which for once he couldn't be entirely blamed for.

Dean held his hands up to counter him quickly,

"M' fine, you don't have to – ,"

But he wasn't quick enough and Bo swept in with an actual _scuttle_ to haul him the rest of the way to his feet, patting Dean's clothes down and brushing off the street dirt with such heavy motions that it very vaguely hurt.

"Oh my goodness, look at your pants."

Dean pushed him back a pace tersely,

"C' mon – ,"

He already felt like enough of an idiot without Bo god damn _mothering_ him to death, although the younger man had at least revealed his identity, in accordance with which Nicole's bulky ex-boyfriend blinked,

"Detective? Wait, did you say _Detective_?"

The color had sort of drained from his face and it filled Dean with a certain measure of retribution that would just have to do short of punching him in the chest.

Bo nodded back at the jackass emphatically and puffed out his chest,

"I sure did."

In many ways the kid almost seemed sort of _proud_ of him – like knowing a policeman was the zenith of life – which in turn made Dean feel a little less angry about the crazy situation the cheery idiot had inspired.

John held his hands up remorsefully,

"I'm sorry man, I didn't know you were a cop – ,"

"Didn't ask."

"You just had your hands all over her body – ,"

"She was throwin' her liver up, what the fuck do you want?"

On the lawman's bitter shout they lapsed into a silence which Dean used to crack back the bones in his neck, rocking his head left to right towards his shoulders and only cooling off when he heard the sweet _click_.

What it _also_ did however – and well he knew it – was give him the appearance of being unhinged and that façade coupled with a gun and a police badge was a pretty damn potent and unsettling thing.

John swallowed heavily,

"Are you going to arrest me?"

Still clamped to his side, Nicole let out a squeak, closing her fingers in tighter around his biceps like she could stop it from happening by holding him in place. Dean stared back for a second unblinking to keep the whole _crazy bastard_ thing afloat but in the end he blew a sigh out and shrugged at them,

"Don't need the paperwork."

It was only really partly the case.

Filling out forms was not the highlight of policing but worse still was the _teasing_ the arrest would create, especially when the assholes back at the precinct heard that he had been knocked flat on his ass during a _date_.

Not that it _was_ a date and –

 _Fuck_.

There he went again with that whole never ending, exhausting _betrayal_ dance.

Luckily however John decided not to push it and instead simply nodded his bulky head,

"Thanks."

Dean waved a hand,

"Go on, get outta here."

Bo flapped his hand at them too,

"Off you go."

Somewhere in the background Brie had been watching, but in the vortex of chaos she'd been roundly ignored, marooned on the sidewalk beside her drunken sister and – probably wisely – not saying a word. Bo wasn't taking much notice of her either but then again he had the attention span of a gnat or maybe something even more basic like a common cold virus or a used toilet brush. Still, he was also kind of oddly _adorable_ and despite the shit show evening Dean couldn't be too cross.

That same lack of vitriol went for Nicole also – though not her meathead boyfriend, who could take a running jump – because for the first time since he'd met her she actually looked _happy_ –

Well kind of.

What she actually looked was nauseous and pasty but elated along with it and so very much in love. In many ways it reminded Dean of his _own_ girl and how she had used to look up at him. He missed that – _so much_ – but he was glad Nicole had it although he wasn't fully sure that John was worthy of her heart.

To make that point clear he shouted at the couple as they scrambled to make a hasty retreat,

"Hey, buy the woman a god damn ring already."

The peeled gorilla paused then nodded his head.

There.

Good deed done for another fucking day.

They were going to have to pin a medal on him soon.

Brie meanwhile continued to hover, staring out across the sidewalk with tears in her eyes.

 _Tears_?

Dean frowned and then squinted in a little closer before deciding that – yep – her orbs were definitely moist and peering across at Bo in a broken hearted staredown as the younger man pointedly avoided her gaze.

"Uh, Bo?"

The kid shook his head at him quickly and stared down at his feet like a child who'd done wrong and in response to it Brie sighed sort of _regretfully_ , her voice a mere whisper,

"It was nice to have met you Dean."

"Sure, you too."

Then she turned and hurried off again leaving him bewildered,

"Okay, what the fuck was that?"

Bo blew a breath out,

"I'm lucky I dodged that one.

"Dodged what?"

"She's – she's a _vegetarian_."

Bo said the word like he was uttering an expletive in front of the pope in a damn cathedral aisle, his narrow little eyes flickering side to side nervously as if waiting to be lightning-bolted out of the sky.

Dean shook his head,

"I don't – ,"

"She's _vegetarian_."

"I heard you the first time but I don't see the rub."

Bo shook his head,

"Oh, I don't like _new age_ living."

"New age – the _fuck_?"

But the kid was adamant,

" _Oh no_."

Dean blinked back several times in astonishment and then slowly turned the new information in his head, attempting to stack it in some way that made sense to him and failing bitterly whatever he tried,

"So you're tellin' me you ditched a girl that really _liked_ you because she wasn't about to chow down on a _steak_?"

"Yessir."

"Dallas, I swear, you are the biggest god damn idiot – ,"

Luckily however he chose to stop there because – after all – wasn't _he_ the total moron that had practically come running when Bo had made the call? What had he even expected in the first place? It would never have been a church picnic with Bo. They were probably just lucky that no one had been shot at, or that Bo hadn't managed to reignite the cold war. Although Dean _had_ got a punch for his troubles which would probably come up angry and sore. Back when Bo had been getting laid in spite of it, that had been worth it, but not so much now.

 _Now_ they were just a couple of sad assholes sat on the sidewalk in the dark with no dates in what was quite possibly the most bleak late summer evening that Dean had ever spent –

As in _ever_.

 _Jesus Christ_.

Somewhere he knew that his girl would be laughing and that sort of tempered the frustration a little bit, but in essence the adventure could be framed in one sentence and expressed in two words which he repeated in his head, running them over and over in quick motion and grinding his teeth to the rhythm –

 _Fucking Bo_.

* * *

 **Well, there you have it, the puppy came back! Hope you liked this slightly lighter tale. How did we feel about the time it was set in? Figured it just sort of seemed to** _ **fit**_ **.**

 **Next week Brock and Paul Heyman are in town and Dean is in trouble yet again (not his fault).**

 **P.S. For anyone wondering who the gunman was in the last installment...it was our old buddy Ryback! Feed him more!**


	8. The Beast Incarnate

**Okay, so this one is a shoutout for wwe21 who requested Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman. I mentioned them briefly before in The Shield Reunited, so I see this as an early mission in the boys' careers. More Dean bashing here, because so many of you wanted worried Seth and Roman back (and because we're currently not getting** _ **worried about Dean**_ **moments on TV damn it!)**

 **Skovko, Yep, veggie over here too so even I agree that Bo is an ass on that one! You're very welcome btw. I'm trying to flip flop between serious and lighter stories and Bo is definitely light!**

 **Minnie1015, Bo is the gift that keeps on giving. Glad you like the angst, I figure certain things will trigger it in him more than others. Got a big one on that front coming up in a couple, stay tuned!**

 **Mandy, Not even Dean can believe the things he gets into at times, although at least this one wasn't a life or death thing, so I've given him a tiny bit of a break on that...well, until this one!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yeah, he** _ **might**_ **be in another spot of bother this chapter *walks off whistling* Glad you thought the last one was funny. I enjoyed writing one where he was all on his own (minus Bo!)**

 **Ninjoy, Yay! Glad you liked it! Thought it was about time for something a little lighter. Next week's is kind of funny too...probably because this one is not! Still, good boy Bo *pats head fondly***

 **Cherry619, Glad you liked the time frame. I initially tried to cram everyone in but it just didn't work. Also kinda highlights that Dean needs his boys to be happy (totally understand, so do I!)**

 **Stingerette1975, Yep, Dean needed his brothers in that one...but they're back this week trying to save his ass. P.S. You can't hit Bo! It's like kicking a puppy. He wouldn't get what he's done wrong!**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Felt it was time I did a fun one (not fun for Dean but you get the point) Next one is light too, although we go dark for this one. Brock Lesnar is not a man who screams** _ **fun**_ **!**

 **Wwe21, Dean can't say no when it comes to helping Bo! Not sure about Enzo (although as always, never say never) I'm just not his biggest fan. Hope you like your Brock/Paul request here though!**

 **Rebel8954, Well, Bo had his chance and blew it so as sorry as you feel, you can't deny he's his own worst enemy...also Dean's worst enemy too! But I still love writing the idiot. He's so much fun!**

 **Who's ready for some Brrrrooocccckkk Leeesssnnnaaaarrr?**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: The Beast Incarnate**

Whoever had designed the humble saloon car had done so without the taller gentleman in mind. Adding heated seats, demisting windows and a _cup holder_ but not enough legroom for the vertically inclined. It was a problem that Dean had come across often but possibly never more so than in that moment in time, when he was crammed in the backseat with his knees up round his earlobes and his nose almost flush to the seat in front.

 _Crap_.

How long they had been there precisely had been lost on him but based on the numbness of his limbs then _too_ long, which wasn't much helped by his raging concussion or the fact that his wrists were tied in place against his spine.

In tying the binds his captor had been meticulous like each brutal knot was a specific work of art and the result was that Dean's arms were twisted almost backwards and definitely _definitely_ not coming apart. His legs were free but still crushed against the driver's seat besides which the pins and needles meant he wouldn't have gotten far and a particular hindrance was the thudding at his temple that charted a path along the streak of dried blood. At some point it had dripped down onto his t-shirt and although Dean couldn't see all of the damage _exactly_ the rusty colored stain told him everything and more.

He looked like he had been beaten by a monster.

Which was kind of funny really since _technically_ he had.

Brock Lesnar.

The Beast Incarnate.

The Next Big Thing.

The Conqueror.

All of them snappy but sort of _wordy_ ways of saying that he was huge and angry and quick with his fists which Dean had known anyway from years of experience but had been _physically_ reminded of not three hours before, when the knuckles had hit the sweet spot beside his eyeball and snapped his skull back and straight into the wall.

 _Ouch_.

Blackness had followed and then hands pawing roughly, dragging him away before binding him as well while Dean had lain limply on the fringes of awareness with a trickle of sticky wetness sliding straight down his cheek.

Kidnapped, tied up and waiting for salvation.

Must have been a Tuesday then.

From somewhere in front of him stationed before the driver's wheel, the man mountain in question sharply cleared his throat, the noise about the only one the beast had made to that point since the unearthly fucking juggernaut was not really one for words. As in literally. The guy just didn't talk _ever_ although he probably didn't need to with fists the size of his.

Dean talked though, sort of _too much_ for the most part and neither bonds nor concussion could fight that urge back. In fact if he was honest it got _worse_ when he was cornered or trapped or in danger or anything else, which was why he shuffled to hang over the console and eyeball his bulky captor as best as he could.

He licked dry lips.

"You know they ain't comin' right?"

Brock grunted back in a sort of eerie half smile but unsurprisingly kept his big lips tightly buttoned like he wasn't in general possession of a tongue.

 _Okay, great talk man_.

Dean tried again,

"My boys ain't stupid, the witness comes first, so doesn't really matter that you grabbed me or whatever because they'll do their damn jobs. I mean it man, they won't come."

Brock let out a noise that translated as _bullshit_ which wasn't all that startling since they both knew it was.

Gold standard bullshit.

Total and utter.

Roman and Seth would come no matter what.

In actual fact it was what Dean was banking on since there was no earthly way he could get out of things alone but at the same time the beast was _also_ waiting patiently and in particular for them to bring the lynchpin to the whole thing.

Paul fucking Heyman –

Agent to the underworld and former chief wrangler to the gigantic conqueror himself, who had made his name by stage managing criminals and being their overly loud mouthpiece to the world. He was not by any means a palatable character, which was putting it mildly and _then_ fucking some. Instead he was a weaselly, greasy individual who had never had an issue with living life outside the law. A man who actually _thrived_ on criminality and who had stood at Brock's side for over ten years.

Well, right up until the James Ellsworth murder anyway, which even for _Pauly_ had been a giant step too far.

Poor Jimmy Ellsworth, a nobody really, just a low-level, blue-collar petty drugs guy, who had made the mistake of trying to sell on Brock's territory while the man himself had been exiled and out of town. Dean wasn't sure if maybe Brock had been hormonal or had possibly been suffering a dip in sugar or _what_ but the beating he had given the hapless _no-chinned_ hoodlum had been deadly to the point where he'd never stood a chance. Brock was mean sure but he had never been so _brutal_ and having stood and watched helplessly, Paul had decided to get out.

As in _way_ out, one hundred percent legal and everything with proper testimony in exchange for staying safe which was easier said than done in very real terms since Brock was a man who believed in live and let die.

As the best in the business and the city's chief enforcers _The Shield_ had been given the job of babysitting the guy which they had done in long boring shifts at the safe house while Pauly had endlessly complained about it all.

Everything about the process had vexed him.

 _Every fucking little thing_.

The god damn toilet paper had been too scratchy, the building itself had been too cold, they hadn't provided a south facing aspect and his breakfast options had been woefully poor. On one fateful morning Seth had even snapped at him for complaining about the evident viscosity of his eggs.

" _For Christ sakes man, we're not running some five star joint here, this is a safe house, you eat those or you can starve._ "

Terse and deeply Seth-like but it had seemed to work anyway and meal times after that had passed by without a word. In actual fact the whole thing had been _swimming_ which was probably why it had been bound to fuck up. They were just three days away from Paul going on the record.

 _Three days_.

Yet seemingly it had all gone to hell.

Dean wasn't sure exactly _how_ Brock had found them _or_ how the goliath type figure had skipped his bail, but found them he had like some overgrown bloodhound who'd been forcibly fed steroids until they'd fucked with his head and just minutes before Dean had been due to hand over and slope back home to fall down into his bed.

Typical.

Why was always him in these messes? Still, better himself than somebody else. Not that the thumping in his cranium agreed with him or the nasty sticky blood slick stiffening his hair.

When he had first woken up from his unconsciousness an hour earlier, it had been to a world surrounded by fluff and so fogged by pain and utter confusion that he hadn't even had the very first sense of where he was. Brock's gigantic figure hunched over the steering wheel like a rhino in a clown car had clued him quickly in and his aching body had filled the other blanks up as had his many years serving on the force.

Peering through the windscreen at the darkened world around them where the fullness of the day had faded into night, had revealed that they were parked on an old abandoned rail bridge in a full-on bad guy movie style trope. Because _of course_ Brock would arrange for the handover of assets surrounded by rusty metal and creaky planks of wood, in a scrubby patch of woodland well out of the city where the nineteen fifties train lines had once hoped to stretch out. The owl that had hooted somewhere in the background had only _underlined_ that Dean was deeply in the shit and realizing that his hands were bound tightly behind him had served as the icing on the wildly fucked up cake.

Brock had grunted on seeing him awake again but otherwise had not uttered a single damn word. Just sitting behind the wheel with his _snorty_ nostrils whistling and piercing the weird silence like a fucking dentist's drill.

Seriously?

How did he not annoy _himself_ with it?

Was he nursing a cold or was it very much a _constant_ thing?

Mentally Dean made a note to ask Pauly once he'd gotten himself out of his jam which he pretty much figured with full confidence he would do because – well – because of _Roman and Seth_. That was who they were waiting for anyway and despite not being _told_ that as such he still knew. After all his brothers were the ones who had Heyman and the weaselly little man was who Brock wanted all along as had been made damn apparent when the beast had burst in on them positively frothing at the mouth like a dog and eyes locking like an unearthly beacon on the suit-wearing man.

" _Brock, please, don't_ – ,"

Paul had put his hands up and the killer's narrowed focus had allowed Dean speedily to get the drop, hurling himself several feet across the bannisters and hitting across the monster's broad shoulders like a dart.

" _Heyman, run_."

Paul had set off like a whippet or possibly maybe a little more like a slug, but regardless of his pace the paunchy man had hustled leaving Dean to employ a hurried chokehold in his wake. It had worked for all of about five seconds before Brock had simply slammed them both back, reversing at speed straight into the staircase and scattering both pain and bright stars across Dean's eyes. From there it had been pretty unsettlingly easy for Brock to use his fists until the lawman was out cold at which point Dean assumed that the beast had scrawled a warning –

 _Heyman for your boy, the old rail bridge_.

Something like that.

Although that sort of presumed that Lesnar was literate which looking at it reasonably was probably a stretch. Maybe he had instead left a video recording or drawn them a picture on the wall in his own shit? When it came to the asshole who had taken him captive and punched a man to death it was anything goes and so frankly beyond having a college degree in classics, there wasn't much about Brock it would have startled Dean to know.

Even so sitting _waiting_ was pure agony and not just in the achy literal sense. Dean was a twitchy sort of person at the best of times and being tied up on a backseat in the hands of a madman was definitely _not_ the best of fucking times. What he _needed_ was to help or at the very least distract him and so to that end he leant in close and began to speak again,

"So seriously man, this whole _not talkin_ ' deal, you take a vow of silence or do the words just hurt your head?"

Unsurprisingly perhaps, Brock merely grunted back at him although there was something else there too, like the flicker of a grin. It was kind of the expression that a cat might give an animal that it was batting around in merciless play and since Brock was very much the predator in their scenario, that made Dean the plucky little mouse. In real terms Brock was probably used to his hostages crying and pleading up a storm and so the lawman sitting coolly and trying to push his buttons was likely akin to getting dinner _and_ a show. Not that it would stop him from breaking Dean's cranium the moment the curious amusement wore off which meant that he would have to be extra fucking careful to not push _fists of fury_ too far.

"Pretty sure I saw _like_ a documentary on that shit. Pythagoras, the numbers guy? He did it too. Made his followers take a five year vow of silence so they could _learn to listen_. That your plan here big guy? Because if that's your deal then I got a _bunch_ I can tell ya. I've lived a wild life man, a _very_ wild life."

Another grunt.

Perhaps it was some kind of gutteral morse code?

For all he knew the unspeaking giant may have recited fucking _war and peace_ by now while he sat back and assumed it was just noises and that the oversized captor had brains made of mush.

"What's that Lassie, huh? Someone in trouble?"

So much for not pushing the big guy too far and in response to it a hand shot out much like a talon before grabbing his copper locks and yanking him down hard.

"Fuck."

Dean's head flattened cheek-first against the console on the only uninjured part of his face left and then was ground down into the plastic with such pressure that he actually let out an involuntary gasp. His back screamed in protest as he was forced almost double with his cramping legs still twisted and crammed behind the seat and Brock's hand on his temple which didn't help either as it built up a phenomenal sort of _force_ in his head.

"Don't test me."

The three words were fucking _growled_ out at him and were such a damn shock that Dean blinked.

Brock could speak?

If he hadn't been in so much discomfort then he might have even let out a surprised bark although as it was simply _breathing_ was an ask enough and so he chose to stay quiet and hope the big guy cooled off. After all, being crushed like a grape by a maniac was by no means the way the lawman wanted to punch his card and especially since _he_ had been hoping for a blaze of glory like rescuing a kitten or perhaps saving the free world.

Luckily however after another grunt of censure the beast lifted his giant sized paw back up and the tension that had been growing in Dean's skull like a geyser instantly and beautifully began to tail off.

 _Bliss_.

Dean's head came up again with tentative caution but his tongue was not as wary and he chuckled,

"That all you got?"

Once again the murderous amusement crossed Brocks features – of which there were a lot since the guy was shaped _weird_ – but luckily whatever he was sinisterly planning was cut off in its prime by the rumble of a car. Not the one they were crammed in either but a second and very _familiar_ looking car.

"Shit."

Seth and Roman had come to get his ass back and the knowledge of that flooded him with warmth and raw alarm. He had known they would come of course – no doubt about it – but the problem was not knowing what Brock had in store, which was pretty unlikely to be a simple exchange thing because the oversize ass was _not_ a trustworthy kind of guy. Besides which Heyman had been trying to _bury him_ and plant him in jail for the rest of his life which meant the chances of his getting a warm welcome were so damn remote as to be almost a dream. If they handed Pauly over they were sending him to the gallows but at the same time if they _didn't_ then the same was true for Dean and the whole thing was such a fucking maelstrom of crappiness that it was difficult to see how they were going to get out.

Still, they'd been in worse jams before.

Far worse.

Somehow and some way his brothers would get him out.

As Roman's big jeep turned the corner of the dust track and drove up onto the old bridge with a creak, the headlights shone in and briefly blinded the surroundings and Dean squinted at them, although Brock merely grinned –

As in grinned like a creepy little fucking kid at Christmas who had just been gifted a gleaming set of _butcher's knives_. Not that Brock had ever _had_ a childhood – couldn't have done – not when he'd been grown in a lab. Although it _was_ perhaps possible that whoever's brain they had implanted straight into the giant's cranium had a few memories left and so Brock might have vaguely remembered the childhood of the unfortunate brain donor who'd given him life.

 _It's alive, it's alive_.

Brock grunted happily and snorted a rumbly breath out,

"Looks like it's show time."

Dean blinked.

 _Wow_.

Again with the speaking?

At this rate they could release a hardback book of his greatest quotes, maybe even get it on the shelves in time for Christmas as the perfect stocking filler for the person who had it all. Not that his money making scheme got much air time as Brock flung his door open with a _gazillionth_ grunt.

Dean's door followed about two seconds later and the rush of evening breeze slapped him clean around the front, assaulting him and his thin sloganed t-shirt and sending a ripple of a shiver down his arms. Not that his thumping head minded the air much and in fact Dean leant himself into its semi gentle touch, biting back a low groan of elation as the icy little fingers massaged across his skull.

What didn't feel so good however was Brock grabbing up the back of his neck and squeezing his oversized _sausage-fingers_ into it like he was hefting up the carcass of a deer after a hunt. As Brock dragged him sideways Dean tried to go with it and scramble instead of being _hauled_ from the car, but in the end the extraction was sloppy and clumsy since his _pins and needley_ legs refused to work.

"Fuck – ,"

He stumbled and caught his foot on a loose plank but Brock's grip tightened and he kept towing him along, moving him sideways away from the vehicle and towards the rusted metal edge of the bridge. Directly in front of them the steelwork had broken and at some point either fallen or been vandalized away, leaving a gap in the otherwise sturdy railings that gave way to the very sharp drop underneath.

 _Shit_.

Dean tried to grind his feet into the planking but it was difficult since he couldn't really feel where they were and was made even worse by the returning sensation that engulfed both his legs and was _painful_ as well.

"C' mon man, _fuck_ – ,"

He was moving like a drunk man, with his tongue the only part of his body that truly worked although frankly he could have been singing the national anthem and Brock would have carried on hauling him across.

Somewhere in the background there was the slamming of two more doors and then a shout he knew only too well,

" _Dean_."

It was Seth by the sounds of it – the more vocal one as usual – but Dean didn't have the time or strength to turn his head because as they arrived at the edge of the platform Brock spun him round and gave him a shove.

" _No_."

With Seth's panicked yell ripping through the dark around them, Dean assumed that his time was fucking _up_ , which would have been a reasonable assumption to have come to since he had just been pushed backwards off a disused rail bridge. In reality what should have followed was lots of nothingness followed by a bone shattering and life ending _thud_ , especially since the structure didn't ford any water but instead a very rocky and boulder strewn natural gulf. _Instead_ however two fingers found his collar and slung casually around it which drew him sharply to a halt.

The fuck?

When he blinked Brock Lesnar was staring back at him, still grinning eerily but at least holding on, although Dean was still pitched back awkwardly at an angle whereby if the beast let him go he would plummet like a stone.

Dean almost snorted in response.

 _You clever fucker_.

If Seth and Roman shot him then their teammate would go down too, only not in a heap on the weather-beaten planking but right off the side into the gully below.

Clearly Brock wasn't as stupid as his face was.

Brains and a tongue.

What did he need Heyman for?

Except to beat into a pulp with his meat fists for daring to go behind his back to the law and to use as a bloody and likely _mangled_ example of what happened to people when they fucked with the hulk.

Dean licked his lips.

So, all down to Seth and Roman.

Luckily his brothers seemed to know it as well and as Dean's head adjusted to his dangerous position and the various gross, unpleasant outcomes of a fall, Roman stepped forward with a crunch of his boot soles and growled a request out,

"Don't do it Brock."

It was issued in his low _don't fuck with me_ register that he only brought out when real shit was going down. Like when his brother was being hung backwards across a sheer drop by a creature who looked more _gothic horror_ than actual man. It was a good tone though and struck Dean with a resilience that he hadn't realized he'd needed to hear and in the silence that followed he searched for purchase along the bridge lip by shuffling his feet side to side.

There was none.

Not that Brock seemed aware of the movement as his fingers curled in tighter around the collar of Dean's shirt and in the ever building tension he let out a grumble and then issued two words across the distance,

"Where's Paul?"

Seth and Roman blinked back in response to it and Dean bit a snort down,

"Oh by the way, he talks now."

Although in turning towards them he exposed the bloodied head wound that had been hiding away on his face's _other_ side and on seeing it Seth let out a hiss of pure fury and Roman's jaw clenched as a look of vengeful murder filled his eyes.

Brock had hurt him.

Brock was a dead man.

All bets were officially off from now on.

It was a curious thing that with the birth of their brotherhood an overprotective instinct had come to the fore and Dean had wondered often over several long musings whether that instinct had come completely from out of nowhere or else had always been there waiting for the right people to come along? Either way there was no denying its potency as Seth and Roman were fully acting out, each man's eyes narrowed dagger-like across the distance and their younger brother going so far as putting it into words,

"Son of a _bitch_ , what the fuck did you do to him?"

Brock grinned toothily.

No answer this time.

Not that he particularly needed to give once since the evidence was streaked in dried red stains down Dean's face and highlighted further in the way their teammate quivered like a man whose whole system was being lanced with flames. Roman put a hand out, stopping Seth's trajectory as the beast's wry smile pushed him almost clean over the edge. Although maybe that wasn't the _best_ of analogies under the circumstances.

Brock tried again,

" _Where is Paul_?"

His bellow echoed loudly and pinged off the steelwork with force enough to make it hum. To further his point he also sidestepped across a pace and Dean's body lowered further and flatter towards the ground. Seth stepped forward again desperately with a hand out, his face twisted angrily,

"Fuck it man, _stop_."

As the strain at the back of his t-shirt moved up a notch, Dean tried to curl his sneaker tips around the planks, like the power of his feet could somehow hold him upright if Brock gave into the temptation and let go. It was pretty fucking futile since he wasn't an orangutan but at the same time he had to at least damn well _try_.

" _Alright_."

Roman's voice lit up the space between them and although he sounded calmer he was angrier too. As in right on the cusp of _superman_ -ing over there and snatching his brother from the jaws of an ugly death which was an interesting thought in that it made likely made Seth _Supergirl_ and as for himself?

Who fucking knew?

 _Krypto_?

Brock rattled the fabric at Dean's shirt collar harshly clearly getting tired of hanging around.

"I want him out here, _now_."

Roman frowned at him but then reluctantly turned towards his truck,

"Alright Paul."

Almost at once the back door clicked open and there was a weird sort of hush as a figure stepped out, handmade leather shoes crunching down on the loose wood slats and then tiptoeing around to the front of the car.

Brock's fingers twitched,

"Evening Pauly."

The paunchy man swallowed down his nausea,

"Brock."

In many ways it was like watching two ex-partners who had unhappily bumped into one another at the store and were trying to negotiate the social fucking _minefield_ of what they could talk about and what was too far. What was the beast even supposed to open up with?

 _Just let me kill this guy and you and I can catch up_?

Instead however the request was much more simple and barked out in unrounded and simple sounding tones, which pretty much summed up the murderer perfectly since Brock Lesnar was a man comprised of jagged points.

"Get over here Pauly."

The suited man paled visibly but kept his place behind the _un_ captured Roman and Seth who for their part were keeping their gazes firmly forwards along with the ever prepared aim of their guns. Roman's brown eyes drifted up towards Dean's blue ones and softened for a second.

 _Easy uce, we'll get you out_.

Dean didn't doubt it but what he _wasn't_ so sure of was whether or not he would make it out alive, since the two chubby digits around the front of his t-shirt were the _only_ real things that were keeping him up. Brock knew it too which was why he roughly shouted in a stuffy-nosed bellow,

" _Get over here_."

Seth shook his head,

"No, no way, not until you let Dean go."

" _Let him go_ , huh?"

A very bad choice of words, which the younger of his brothers realized only belatedly and at about the same time that Brock loosened his hold.

 _Fuck_.

Dean's body dropped another few inches and at the suddenness of the movement he let out a yelp, which served to draw a smile across the features of the asshole who was only _just_ keeping a hold on his shirt.

Typical.

Brock Lesnar was fucking _enjoying_ it like a kid whose Christmases had all come at once and nor could Seth or Roman do a fucking _thing_ about it.

Well, except shout, which Roman did,

" _That's_ _enough_."

It was a passionate one too that echoed in off the treetops and was sort of fractured sounding with undertones of love. Unlike Brock who's every sentence was a business one, Roman couldn't quite disguise how much he cared and although that was possibly, _potentially_ a weakness, it was also the key to how their brotherhood worked. They would have done _any_ -fucking-thing to save him and he in turn would have done the same for them, which was likely the reason that Brock looked up evenly and issued another order,

"Both of you, lose the guns."

In terms of having spoken it was the most complete sentence that the beast incarnate had uttered all day and practically filled the entire second chapter of the book of _Brock Quotes_ Dean still planned to have released.

Seth however was less enamoured by it and shifted a little,

"Listen man – ,"

"Do it now."

The instruction was accompanied by a jerk at Dean's collar to which the battered lawman let out a groan. In real terms he wouldn't have let his pain show up for _anything_ but he simply couldn't help it because fucking _everything_ hurt, his tightly pinioned wrists which were protesting the lack of blood supply, his shoulders and his neck which were taking all his weight, his spine for having been cramped up for hours and worst of all the pounding in his concussion drilled head. It wasn't even meant to be a _loud_ groan either and Dean honestly thought that he'd bitten it back, but no sooner had it slipped beyond his lips there was a clatter and when he looked across both Roman _and_ Seth had ditched their guns.

"Good, now kick 'em over the edge."

If looks could have killed then Brock would have been a dead man but since he _wasn't_ the two men complied and booted their pieces across the dusty wood planks and down off into the blackness beyond. The fact that it took a good few seconds for them to land again somewhere in the valley below, gave Dean the tiniest hint of the depth of things and it wasn't very comforting.

It was a long ass way to fall.

Still, it seemed to settle the bulky murderer who grunted a sort of vaguely _contented_ note and then went right back to his favorite number which was playing on repeat,

"Paul, get over here."

"No."

 _I am Spartacus_.

Well, not _exactly_ but in terms of sheer _ballsiness_ it was pretty damn close.

Brock growled warningly,

"I gave you an order."

Paul spread his hands,

"I don't want this anymore."

 _This_?

An interesting way to term murder and blackmail and fucking _suspending a man off a bridge_ and a little too late to decide _now_ he didn't want it since the paunchy little greaseball was the reason they were there.

"You don't get a choice."

"This isn't a life Brock."

What the hell was _this_ now?

 _The_ _Jerry Springer Show_?

Dean's body was shaking – as in actually _shaking_ – and he wasn't completely sure how long it could hold out since essentially _planking_ _backwards_ above nothing was not the sort of pose that was destined to last. Desperately he glanced across the space towards his teammates who were positively itching to plough in and save his ass. Especially Seth who was fucking _vibrating_ like a really antsy honey bee trying to take off. The fact was however that were all still pretty helpless since any sort of movement might make Brock let go, which seemed an ever more likely scenario as the fingers at Dean's collar began to twitch an angry note.

In fact it sort of seemed like Brock had lost sight of the fact that he was holding onto anything at _all_ and so Dean shuffled his feet just as much as he could muster until the piggy eyes spun back,

"Uh, remember me man?"

The disparaging little snort he got in return for it told him that _yes_ Brock knew he was there which was frankly all the base confirmation Dean needed although the soap opera element wasn't done yet.

"I won't ask again Paul."

" _Look_ at what you're doing – you're about to murder a _cop_."

" _Whoa_ there."

Not that Paul was _wrong_ in his assessment but they didn't need him giving the man mountain ideas or else inadvertently baiting him into the action like a teenager taunted into carrying out a dare.

Seth turned around to hiss at him tersely,

"Shut up man – ,"

But the paunchy agent was on a roll and after over ten years of having been a mouthpiece keeping silent wasn't something he could cope with too well, which frankly they should have known from their time in the safe house with Paul running his damn mouth off on the hour _every_ hour. Still, they had _at_ _least_ expected him to zip it during the delicate process of getting Dean back or bite down whatever hot retort he was thinking.

Although on that front they had evidently been wrong.

"See _this_ is why I can't go back – this _madness_ – I mean, for all I know I could end up being next."

Paul was sweating up a storm in his jacket with beads of sweat positively _rolling_ down his brow and fumbling in his pocket he pulled out a screwed up handkerchief and dabbed at his face and clammy neckline as well. Possibly he was expecting Brock to go crazy which wasn't surprising since all of them were. In fact the entire fucking _world_ had stilled around them, like the birds in the trees were poised and waiting for him to blow. Brock Lesnar could have responded with any _number_ of explosions or with his fists or maybe even his creased and pointy head, only what he did _instead_ was frown back mildly while looking vaguely wounded,

"I wouldn't hurt you Paul."

"Wait, you wouldn't?"

His confusion was not unfounded given that the man stood and wheezing in front them was a notorious brute and killer as well, with an unflinching grip on Dean's stretched-out shirt collar serving as a hint to those still not so sure. It stood to reason therefore that for a man who had betrayed him the oversized hulk would feel little but contempt although that didn't seem to show on his expression.

Not that the distorted features moved much.

"No Paul, you're family."

It wasn't the _softest_ sentence but what it lacked in terms of emphasis it _kind of_ made up for in words. After all, Brock wasn't a man that just said shit without meaning it and nor was he the type of who lured folks in to snap their hands. Put quite simply the big ape had never _had_ to be as that was what Paul had always been for.

"I – I _am_?"

"Uh huh."

Dean's body spasmed and for a horrible moment he was convinced that he would fall, that his toes would slip off the woodwork altogether and leave him dangling from Brock's chubby fingers by a loose stitch of fabric and precious little more. He simply couldn't hold himself up any longer and had perhaps another minute or two at the _most._ Not that Paul fucking Heyman was helping since _he_ was too busy staging _Lassie Come Home_.

"So, _if_ I came back to help you – no more murders?"

Seth's eyes bugged,

"You're meant to be on _our_ side now."

But apparently all of that _legal stuff_ was over given that Paul had got a second sniff of where he belonged and provided that Brock made the final assurance, then the whole _going straight_ thing could be all but laughed off.

In the silence of the wilderness they could have probably heard a pin drop as they stood around awkwardly waiting for Brock's next _epic_ words. Well, all apart from Dean who was still sort of _hanging_ and could barely hear anything beyond the pounding of his heart which at some point had coupled with the screaming in his muscles to create a sort of shrill and panicky mass of noise.

Brock smirked eerily,

"I won't make you watch them."

Dean rolled his eyes,

"Oh yeah, fuckin' temptin' man."

Evidently though it was however, because Pauly sure went through the motions of thinking it through, all of which scratched away precious few seconds that the _scuzzball_ might have had but Dean quite patently did not. His body again sort of _juddered_ with exertion and caught Roman's eye enough so that he mouthed –

 _You just hold on_.

Only _holding on_ wasn't exactly the problem because _he_ was not the one who was holding onto shit although Brock too must have gotten a sense of Dean's agony because he looked back briefly and chuckled eerily.

"Alright, _done_."

At the sound of Heyman's voice Dean blew a relieved sigh out, which wasn't a sentence that he ever thought he'd hear. Across from them the headlights of Roman's car were still gleaming and as he stepped to move in closer they lit the turncoat up, along with Seth moving an angry hands towards him as if to try and haul him back with the familiar sharp tones catching the chill wind around them and carrying the distance like he was stood clean at their side,

"What the fuck are you _doing_ man?"

To Paul's credit he did look a little abashed, holding his hands up in a gesture of _my bad_ and then creasing up his face,

"I appreciate everything you've done – ,"

Seth snapped back at him,

"Screw that, you're not moving, not until we get Dean back."

Was it even worth mentioning that their job had gone to hell?

One thing was for sure though the Commissioner would be livid with the sort of broiling fury they only rarely got to see and no doubt she would blame _their_ asses for the screw-up which would totally overlook one salient thing.

Not _one_ of the three of them had given up the location of the safe house that Brock had ambushed them in, which meant that someone in the know had forced their hand for them.

 _A leak_.

It _had_ to be.

Ergo _not_ their fault.

Roman's shout brought him back to his senses and almost jerked him clean off the bridge as the pounding in his head briefly shut out his surroundings and replaced it with high-pitched whistling instead,

"Alright Lesnar, fair trade – ours for yours."

Brock smirked again,

"How about you go first?"

Then to ramp up the tension – which they _didn't_ need – he nudged at Dean's toes with the tip of his boots.

" _Fuck_ – ,"

In reality it was only a modicum of pressure but it was still just enough to make the copper blonde slip a bit and in response to the movement Seth almost erupted while yelling across the distance,

"Pull him up man – _pull him up_."

"Not until you send Pauly over here."

It was a rumble, like a patch of distant thunder moving in and promising hail and fire and brimstone and a million other things that could piss down over them. Roman's eyes found out Dean's in the tension and asked him silently for his thoughts on the plan, which was kind of a nice touch, keeping him involved in the shit storm while pretending that he _wasn't_ a god damn helpless sitting duck.

Dean nodded again.

There was no other option besides which his feet were newly slipping on their own, with the fucking nudge from Brock having lost them their toehold and reignited gravity which was trying to drag them down.

 _Do it_.

In response Roman dragged a swift breath in and then gave Paul a none too gentle prod, releasing him out of The Shield's protective custody and back into the – ahem – hefty bosom of Brock.

"Come here Paul."

This time the guy did it and scuttled across through the beaming headlights.

"Now Dean."

Logically speaking it was the next part of the process but then again the beast was not a _logical_ man and seemingly the thought of giving up his plaything without making it go _splat_ was bothering him.

Seth stepped forward with purpose,

"Give him up man."

But Brock's tiny eyes were focused in on him and locked to Dean's blue orbs like some kind of fucking serpent that had seen its kill and was about to move in. Again his toe flickered out and hit Dean's shoe tip only this time the copper's blonde entire leg gave out, sliding off the bridge edge and then scrabbling for purchase as his one remaining foot tried to grind deeper in.

" _Hey_ – ,"

The shout was both a warning and rare sort of panic in one single syllable that seemed to come from everywhere, from Seth and Roman which was almost a granted but also from a _third_ person.

Paul Heyman himself.

"Brock, hey, what did you _just_ get through promising?"

The beast's smile broadened,

"Go wait in the car."

 _Fuck_.

Despite having spent the majority of the evening lamenting Brock's stupidity it turned out that Dean was wrong and the beast instead had an answer for everything.

Paul wouldn't be watching murder if he was sat in the car.

Besides which it would make an excellent last chapter in the _Big Bad Book of Brock Lesnar Quotes_ entitled _How To Have The Last Laugh With the Police Force_. Not that Dean wanted him to have the last _anything._ Although suspended as he was it was difficult to see victory, which was probably why it surprised him so openly to see Paul's chubby hand arrive on Brock's arm, in the sort of soothing gesture a mother might give a child who holding onto something he'd been told he couldn't have. Like a book or tin soldier or an emaciated puppy that he was dragging by the tail and had half battered around. The big man blinked and then looked across slowly in response to which Heyman employed the mom _voice_ as well,

"Listen to me, we don't need this trouble, killing a cop is a whole _world_ of hurt – ,"

"Get in the car Paul."

"We've got to think smart here and keep our heads down – doing this will _not_ help."

For a moment – or longer since it felt like forever – Dean was convinced the easy tones plain wouldn't work and that Brock would step backwards and just let him plummet, but gradually there was a strange sort of shift and the eerie intensity tapered off into a smirk.

It wasn't a good smirk – not wry or mildly doting – but the sort of thin expression a bulky murderer might use and suddenly Dean got a sense of Jimmy Ellsworth and what the poor fucker might have had to endure. In real terms he thought that his time was done and dusted,

 _That's all folks._

 _Goodbye and goodnight_.

However just as his toes slide another inch down the bridge side he was suddenly hauled forwards then essentially fucking _thrown_.

Not backwards though –

Which was totally the main thing since instead he was sort of pitched off to one side, with the sudden change in motion and gradient so startling that it jolted his battered brain and drew dark drapes across his eyes.

He didn't pass out.

That much was obvious from the way he hit the wooden bridge slats with a bang. His overly tensed leg muscles finally given out on him and dropping him earthwards and onto his shins. With his hands still pinned behind his back he couldn't catch himself at all and so took the force fully before toppling onto his side, slamming first his ribs, then his arm and then his _temple_ as the weather-beaten boards rushed up to greet his head.

Fuck.

The breath billowed out of him and his brain again rattled as it was thrown like a pancake into the top of his skull and the pain seemed to pillow clean out through his eyeballs like some fucker was in there trying to poke them both out.

"Dean – ,"

The voices seemed both far off and next to him as did the sudden thudding slam of a car door. One at first then joined by another and accompanied by an engine's loud throaty growl. For a minute he assumed that maybe Roman's car was on the move again although the notion didn't seem to make a lot of sense and it wasn't until the spotting across his vision lifted off again that he could start to sort the puzzle out.

 _Oh_.

 _Brock and Paul_ were on the move again, reversing back across the rickety rail bridge and slinging the overly-cramped saloon car around, tires throwing up a cloud of dried mud dust as they struggled for purchase before revving off.

"Dean – ,"

He was still staring watching it when hands fell down around him followed by a set of knees crouched beside his head. They were joined on the other side by a big pair of boot tips and looking up in bewilderment delivered the sight of familiar eyes, chocolate brown and massively fractious as Roman's hand effortlessly ghosted Dean's skull, then slung around his neck and kept moving upwards to fondly tousle the sweat dampened scruff.

"You okay?"

The question was piercing and pretty damn urgent although also deep and smooth like only Roman knew how to be.

Dean licked his lips,

"They're – they're gettin' away."

"Let 'em."

The big hand went back to palming his scalp again.

When it came to their enemies, Roman didn't seem to care.

Behind Dean's back there were more hands working accompanied by a string of spat out curse words, which in and of _themselves_ would have announced that Seth was back there even if he hadn't been asking questions of his own,

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"Huh?"

"The _head wound_ – did you black out at any point?"

"Oh, yeah."

The fingers were frantic as they tugged at the bindings and although Seth was trying his eager pulling didn't help.

"What else?"

"What else what?"

"What else did he do to you?"

 _Uh oh_.

Staccato tones.

Seth was close to flipping out.

From his position alongside him Roman tilted Dean's head back and brushed away the hair to view the injury for himself which was greeted with a wince and then a warm brown-eyed flicker,

"So, what's the verdict doc?"

Roman snorted,

"You'll live."

Although Seth still seemingly wasn't so pacified as he bit out again,

"What else did he do?"

Dean shrugged wearily and then hissed out with pleasure as the last knot untangled and the ropework fell loose –

 _Yes_.

The joy was short-lived though since when he moved his arms around every fibre of his being protested bitterly at the shift. Clearly at some point throughout the long hours, his shoulders had adjusted to being held back and so asking them again to revert to normal status was a whole lot of altering they were not happy to accept.

"Fuck."

In order to help – not needing to be prompted – the younger man instantly messaged the joints, working the blood flow back into the sockets and then using his heel to distribute it around.

Dean groaned again and Roman frowned sharply, on it like a pitbull,

"Something else wrong?"

Apart from every last atom in his body which had been twisted and pulled and _strained_ like a stress ball?

"Yeah, I think there's a leak in Steph's department – someone talked and told Brock where to go."

Seth snorted wearily,

"Uh, yeah, about that – ,"

Then he silently dropped down his phone.

Open was a webpage that Dean only vaguely knew about but which Seth was near enough fucking addicted to. Some weird place where folk could type out a sentence and then put it into the ether for the whole world to view. Instead of Seth's profile however – and his picture – Dean was staring into the grinning face of Paul, who was smirking like a cheeseball into the camera and poking up two thumbs like he was selling used cars.

Dean frowned,

"Uh, what the fuck m' I lookin' at?"

"Keep readin'."

He did –

 _Bored off my ass right now._

That was the quote and when Dean squinted at the timestamp it had been sent about an hour before Brock had burst in. For Seth to be showing it the thing clearly had significance but with his brain in achy tatters he was struggled to see what,

"He had a phone in there uce, left the location on."

Dean blinked.

"So, it _is_ our fault?"

With his hands now free of the binds that had been trapping them, Roman reached over and pulled him up again, pillowing the bloodied head down against his breastbone and then wrapping arms around him.

Seth nodded,

"Yeah, we fucked up."

"Steph won't be happy."

 _That_ much was a given and the knowledge of it speedily brought the mood down.

 _Damn_.

Usually in terms of rallying emotions it would have been Dean to lift things back up but he was addled and aching and fucking _exhausted_ and didn't have the strength to do it.

Luckily Roman did.

"Doesn't matter – she'll get it."

Seth snorted,

"Get we lost him?"

Roman shook his head resolutely,

"Get _why_."

He was referring to Dean and the knowledge kind of soothed him as he let out a sigh and very slowly shut his eyes.

" _Whoa_."

"Wha – ,"

Seth's hands were on him in an instant and shaking him roughly,

"Don't go to sleep, you have a head wound you idiot – besides, when Steph starts shouting I'll be damned if your concussion means you miss out on the thing."

Dean snorted wryly,

"She'd just give me an encore."

Roman chuckled back at him at him fondly and broadly and patted his chest a little,

"Probably uce, probably."

In terms of their success rate and stellar policing record, their encounter with Brock Lesnar counted as their first lost and although that was a pretty fucking bitter pill to swallow there was something kind of _not crap_ about how it had ended up. After all he wasn't splatted in a gully and in the general crazy scheme of things that mattered to him a whole lot –

"Come on man, you need to get checked out at the hospital."

"M' _fine_."

Seth rolled his eyes,

"That streak of blood says otherwise."

"You worry too much."

"Maybe it's that you don't worry _enough_."

Despite his mild protests he allowed them to help him stagger into something resembling a stand and as they did Dean lamented on his earlier musings and in particular on having referred to Brock as a dog.

Brock was not a dog – he was a leech or a viper – nothing so noble and loyal as a dog. Seth and Roman though? _Those_ two were dog-like with their soulful brown eyes and comforting presence and maybe even sometimes a wet little nose. It was a thought that made him smile as he fell back against Roman before petting him lightly.

"Good boy Lassie, good boy."

Somewhere ahead of him Seth let out a grumble and a sigh of long suffering,

"Hospital, _now_."

* * *

 **Yep, that's right, the guys' first failure on a job, but I figure they were young and starting out so it was bound to happen once or twice.**

 **Next week, our three intrepid fellers end up in a motel room with only two beds...cue bickering, late night conversations and accidentally kicking each other!**


	9. Three In A Bed

**This week we have a request from Debwood-1999. I was so excited to do this one and love how it turned out. Hopefully you guys do too and I'm not setting myself up to fail! Oh well, here goes!**

 **Ninjoy, Can't deny, Dean being in trouble will always be my totally guilty pleasure. Especially when Seth and Roman are worried and he's being a smartass! Heyman was actually pretty fun to write!**

 **Debwood-1999, Hope I do your request justice here. Thanks so much for suggesting something so fun and different. Had a blast writing it and with any luck, that manages to come across!**

 **Wwe21, Yay, I'm super glad you liked it! Brock is just a fantastic villain because he's just so...well,** _ **Brock-like**_ **, while Heyman is like his yappy little terrier. You're dead right, they could back!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Hey, I can certainly add it to my list! Going to be taking a bit of a break from these stories for a month or so, but there are still plenty of untapped ideas to come back to!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, I honestly can't help throwing in a few funny lines, plus, Dean enjoys laughing in the face of danger so it seemed to fit! Paul and Brock have always had a weird dynamic I tend to think!**

 **Cherry619, Haha, yeah, his head got a little messed up what with the concussion and all! But just more for Seth and Roman to fret about, right?! I know I wouldn't sleep on the floor, no way!**

 **Kirrak, Yes! I do love me some bashed around Dean! Glad I'm not the only one who does. Happy you enjoyed it and although there isn't any whumping in this one (not directly) hope you enjoy!**

 **Minnie1015, I love this AU world too (can't believe I thought it up) but am cautious about burning myself out with it. Got another four shorts to come, then I'll break for a bit, then come right back!**

 **Skovko, Yep, Ellsworth had to go! I'm still not convinced the oneshots represent my best stuff, but I like 'em although they're** _ **super**_ **difficult to do! Look at me though, growing as a writer (I hope!)**

 **Mandy, I missed fussing Seth and Roman myself, it's always the best part of writing Dean getting beaten up! His boys love him too much! Hope this chapter lives up to expectations. It's pretty fun!**

 **Rebel8954, I think that Brock and Heyman have been together so long that Brock has grown begrudgingly hugely fond of the guy! Like an annoying little puppy. Must be quiet when he's gone!**

 **So, who wants the guys all beaten up and squished in together? As you wish...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Three In A Bed**

The motel room door creaked open so violently that it sounded like the thing was about to sheer off and clatter down onto the grubby patterned carpet like a really weird piece of ultra-modern sculpture art.

Not that the three men on the threshold would have noticed and even if they _had_ done they wouldn't have cared, since each of them were far too battered and weary to be worried about the fixtures and fittings of the place.

Frankly the whole _complex_ could have fallen down around them and engendered little more than a bewildered looking blink. Which was testament either to how rundown the joint looked or else the wild long ass shift they had just finished.

It was the shift.

Trampling over the threadbare weaving which hadn't been updated since _beige_ was still a thing, Dean cracked his neck by dropping his head sideways and then bouncing it back and forth until he felt the bones click. He wasn't sure what bones _exactly_ were shifting and nor was he convinced they should have shifted at all but the sensation was good and he sort of _lingered_ on it like a sadist while at the same time blowing out a breath.

" _Oh yeah_ , that's the stuff."

Seth blinked beyond him,

"They've only given us two god damn beds."

In terms of coherence it was a fairly simple statement, although both Roman _and_ Dean frowned back in response, as if their teammate had suddenly started speaking another language with clicks and whistles and possibly tongues.

Roman grunted,

"What?"

"There are only two beds man."

Then to further his assessment he flicked on the lamp.

An unpleasantly dim orange glow lit the room up accompanied by a dull but continuous _hum_ as some sort of electrical abnormality from the light bulb made itself known in the drywall above.

 _Great_.

The box-shaped space comprised yet _more_ throwback décor with wildly patterned drapes that matched absolutely _nothing_ and actual god honest _shit brown_ colored walls.

Dean whistled,

"Wow, think I could borrow their decorator?"

Roman replied wryly,

"Not sure they _have_ one uce."

But despite the sleepy banter there was simply no denying that their teammate had been right.

There were only two beds.

"See?" Seth replied, sort of _jabbing_ a hand out as if they had somehow been doubting what he'd said, which they hadn't but had always been bound to upset him since every last one of them was wound pretty tight, " _Two beds_."

In response to him Roman huffed a short groan out then turned in the doorway towards the cold desert night and it was weird to Dean how somewhere so scorching could drop so dramatically with the absence of light.

"I'll go see if they can put us in another room or something."

He dropped his bag heavily and then stepped out of sight although the crunch of his shoes on the gritty stretch of concrete that ran back to the reception still sounded out loud.

Seth bit back a curse,

"This is _all_ we need man."

"Could be worse."

" _How_?"

"Could be roaches."

"Oh god."

It was clearly not something the younger man had thought of but fuelled by the image he started to search, pawing back the drapes and eyeing the cracked windowsill before using his boot to lift the skirt around the beds.

Nothing seemed to skitter on stubby legs from underneath them, which on the face of it seemed to be a positive sign, although Dean couldn't help but smirk just a little as he gestured almost lazily,

"They probably won't come out. Like to get themselves tucked down somewhere deep, y' know? Stay there until a nice warm body comes round. Couple of hours after we shut the lights out? _That's_ when we'll know if we've got 'em or not."

Seth looked up,

"You know you're an asshole?"

"Damn proud of it as a matter of fact."

But despite the standard needling there was truth to the sentence and nor was Dean a novice when it came to _pest control_ since the building he'd grown up in had _not_ been appealing to anything that couldn't either scuttle or crawl.

Honestly, it had been kind of a cesspool –

Much like the job they had just left behind, which had been dark and depressing well _before_ they had got into it and hadn't picked up much the more they dived in.

A dog fighting syndicate being run from the desert in a rusty pile of buildings that had been billed as a farm but had frankly left a _hell_ of a lot to be desired since the only actual livestock as such had been the pups.

Nice dogs too.

Or maybe they _would_ have been had a bunch of asshole men not trained them to be mean.

There had been a few though – heartbreakingly called _bait dogs_ – who had seemed nice enough, like they could maybe be rehomed and had included a skinny friendly thing with big tan blotches and a wispy little tail which she had whipped against his arm. It was _possibly_ the reason that he had punched with such abandon when their raid had thrown the fight into wild disarray and the watching crowd had begun to sprint for freedom as the undercover officers and city cops had piled in.

Not that _all_ of the spectators had made a break for it or even gone down quietly once they'd been caught and at one point there had been nothing short of a mass brawl with fists and knives and _knuckle dusters_ involved.

Somewhere in the melee – not even _he_ knew when precisely since the rush of pure adrenaline had driven off the pain – one of the assholes had stabbed him with a screwdriver and busted the way clean through his poor hand.

As in literally _through_ –

In the back and out again although thankfully the repercussions had been minimal at best which was certainly how the wearied looking doctor had described it when assessing his range of movement,

" _You're a very lucky man."_

Yeah right.

Considering everything that had happened in his lifetime, the sentence had seemed pretty ironic at best but since it had referred to the lack of nerve damage and the health of his tendon he hadn't snorted back.

Tetanus booster, assorted pills and bandaging.

Nothing more and nothing less, which in the scheme of things probably _did_ make him lucky although he wasn't prepared to give into that notion yet.

After all were _lucky_ people dragged into the desert just to satisfy the whims of their power-crazed boss who for some reason had decided that they'd needed to be loaned out to help Olympic City bring the doggy crime ring down?

No.

Okay, so ostensibly one of the leaders of said _band of assholes_ was a former Suplex man but Dean still felt that the commissioner's decision just _might_ have been swayed by Olympic City's main man.

Mayor Kurt Angle –

A hunk of a politician in a way that twill-suited Vinny K. Mac was _not_ , on top of which he seemed to have some history with Stephanie which was heavily alluded to but never spelt out and which had rubbed Dean wrong ever since he'd first noticed it because the last thing Steph needed was to be fucked over by another guy. As long as Dean was around that wouldn't happen but damn it if she didn't make it difficult for him. With sending the three of them halfway round the country to a sandy patch of _nothing_ being a prime example.

Fuck.

He blew a long breath out which tweaked at his ribcage as it mildly inflamed one of many right hooks which he had taken from a guy who'd looked like a boulder and who had spent several minutes trying to punch his kidneys out. It seemed pretty likely that for the next five to ten days he would probably be peeing out a bright red steam of blood which would tie in very nicely with the seepage from his hand wound.

Yep.

Dean Ambrose sure was a lucky, _lucky_ guy.

Somewhere across the room from him – his bug hunt now ended – Seth dropped down onto the nearest mattress with a sigh before screwing up his face at the noise that echoed back at him as every last spring in the damn thing wailed.

Two beds and both of them utterly uncomfortable.

Perhaps they were all of them lucky, lucky guys?

Beneath Seth's eye was a red line of bruising which blossomed along his cheekbone in a vivid _purple-black_ and which somehow looked worse in the synthetic semi-lighting than it had done in the hospital or even at the farm.

He was sitting kind of gently with an arm around his stomach and winced just a little whenever he moved and frankly the pair of them were so fucking pitiful it surprised Dean that no one had called the fucking _Red Cross_ out –

A sad little notion that then swiftly doubled as their beleaguered third member limped back in through the door.

"Looks like they don't have any bigger rooms available."

Seth gaped back at him,

"You're saying this is _it_?"

"Unless you wanna sleep in the car?"

He wasn't teasing –

It was a genuine question of _should we stay or should we go_ and frankly not feeling that his wildly bruised kidney was up to sitting for another second longer, Dean held his arms out and stepped across the carpet with his usual exuberance taking the fore,

" _C' mon_ , what are you talkin' about man? We got plenty 'a room here."

"There's two beds Dean."

"So? One for me, one for you big guy and the _littlest princess_ over there can take the floor."

"I can _what_?"

In response to the outrage Dean poked his tongue out then caught it grinning between his teeth, knowing that the odds of the younger man roughing it were fairly unlikely to say the very least. Not even _jail time_ had stopped the predilection that their fractious teammate had for the finer things in life and it knowing – along with how to push their brother's buttons – Roman bit a smile down and stepped towards a bed,

"Sounds good uce, I think I'll take this one."

He was limping still _badly_ and had a gash across his nose, one of which was from a set of knuckle dusters and the other from a sadly well-aimed kick to the balls.

All things considered, Dean preferred having the hand wound.

Seth meanwhile was still hung up about the beds.

"Why do I have to sleep on the floor?"

"Because you're the younger brother, now get down there and shush."

As Dean spoke he strode across the distance between them and tried to move his teammate from the mattress with a poke.

Seth didn't move.

"Screw you man, I'm injured."

Dean waved his well-bandaged hand,

"So what's this?"

Besides which his poor and overly pummelled kidney would by no means have coped with a night on the shag, which had been something he had done far too often in his teen days but would probably not be happening very much more.

Seth gestured roughly,

"What about Roman?"

The bigger man had toppled clean back onto the bed and was spread out like a walrus trying to make himself heavier so that no one would be able to easily lift him off.

"Hey, I just got kicked in the _ballsack_ , remember?"

"Perfect then – your lower half is already numb."

Roman raised a brow above closed eyelids,

"I ain't moving."

"Well god damn it I am _not_ gonna be sleeping on the floor."

In terms of arguments it was probably as close to one as the three long-term teammates either had or _would_ get and was played out with the younger man clenching his fists angrily while the bigger of the two simply dropped back his head.

Brother stuff really –

A continuous needling but in the mood they were in it had the potential to go bad and not exactly keen to be stuck in the fallout, Dean started shunting with his knees at the bed,

"Move."

Seth looked across for a second like he was crazy but maintained his position on the coverlet,

"What?"

" _Move_."

Dean flapped a bandaged hand impatiently and so insistent was its motion that the younger man stood up,

"What's going on uce?"

Roman was watching him, with one big brown eye squinting out across the space.

For the most part they were used to Dean's flights of fancy although that didn't always mean they were able to keep up. At the best of times his head was like a pinball game in progress and they often had to wait for the little ball to drop.

 _High Score_.

Dean pushed again and the bed sort of creaked at him but at the same time there was also a visible shift, the cheap wooden frame drawing drag marks in the carpet as it was very, _very_ slowly propelled across the floor.

He offered them a shrug,

"If you're gonna fuckin' argue then no one can have 'em."

Seth straight up _gaped_ ,

"So what, you're gonna push them out the door?"

In real terms it wouldn't have been the wildest of options and in fact by _his_ standards would have been pretty tame and so he let the notion settle for a second as he braced against the bedside while worried looks were exchanged.

Roman sat up,

"Dean – ,"

" _Relax_ , I'm kiddin' – gonna join 'em together so we can share 'em."

"You're what?"

At the sound of Seth's scepticism – fully expected – the copper blonde huffed out a sigh and waved his hand, the heavily wadded bandage indicating their surroundings and in particular the patterned weave covering the floor,

"Well that's still your other option – take it or leave it – but if you're leavin' it then do you wanna maybe fuckin' _help_ here?"

At some point the bed had hit a bump on its trajectory which was possibly the last guest to stay in the room and who had been murdered and then stashed away beneath the floorboards but with a thigh bone sticking up or maybe a skull.

Seth rolled his eyes,

"I still think this is crazy."

Even without the whole _murder_ thing –

But despite that he trudged round to put his back into it and with both of them pushing the frame shifted again, juddering an unhappy path from its position and towards the bed that Roman was on, which didn't reveal any long hidden bodies but _did_ uncover about an inch of dirt.

Nice.

By the time they had moved the thing three feet over – grunting and cursing and aching with every step – Roman had fortunately stumbled to his feet again and taken the nightstand out of the way, which meant that when they finally pushed the beds together they meshed like a jigsaw puzzle falling into place.

Dean flopped down onto them heavily in victory but cracked his hand against the headboard and yelped loudly,

" _Fuck_."

On either side his teammates were casting down doubtfully and Seth shook his head,

"I don't know man, it looks small."

Dean's response comprised one word only that bit out tersely beneath raised copper brows.

"Floor."

" _Fine_."

Kicking his boots off and wincing at the action as the motion presumably chafed his throbbing balls, Roman toppled down onto the mattress with a dull bounce and rumbled deeply,

"Right now I don't care _where_ I sleep."

His arrival was such that the springs sank down around him and rolled Dean over and onto his back, which not only ploughed him straight into his teammate but also jabbed his kidney like a punching bag,

" _Double fuck_."

Letting out a sigh Seth cautiously took the other side, inching across the mattress like the damn thing might bite and no doubt remembering Dean's earlier _creepy crawly_ facts and wondering if there were any roaches camped out inside. Dean snuck a hand out and evilly lowered it to brush his fingers across the back of Seth's nape and the younger man darted up sharply and slapped his neckline with a ridiculously violent and very loud sounding _thwack_.

Roman jolted and looked up in confusion although the object of the prank caught onto it at once, snatching up a pillow and throwing it at their lunatic while barking in frustration,

"God damn it all Dean."

It bounced off his midriff and drove the wind out of him which made him cough a little although it didn't drown the laugh.

Dean spread his hands,

"What? I didn't do anythin'."

Seth snorted –

" _Yeah, sure_."

Then he folded back down although in getting himself comfy he shuffled towards the fringes in the hopes he could display his unhappiness with the gulf. Roman leaned over and hit the main light switch and abruptly they were plunged into beautiful dark.

Or – well – _semi dark_ since the halogen lighting that lit up the path outside still bled through the drapes, painting the room in an eerie glow of whiteness that picked out weird details –

The bathroom door.

A table lamp.

Although frankly short of silhouetting a murderer with a blood dripping axe the three men couldn't have much cared and Dean blew a sigh out and settled down against the mattress which – despite its _well used_ status – nicely pillowed his weight.

For some reason in the darkness his aches and pains seemed harsher like the absence of vision made the damn things _reignite_ and he groaned a little and flopped onto his stomach as his kidney started throbbing.

Roman murmured,

"You alright?"

"Yeah, m' fine."

"How's the hand?"

" _Stabby_."

"You don't say?"

"How are the balls?"

"Twice their size."

 _Yikes_.

Somewhere to their left Seth let out a chuckle and then rolled a little closer as his hissy fit wore off.

"Are we the sorriest assholes or what man?"

There was pretty much no denying that they were and Roman snorted wryly in response to it and blew out a long and contemplative breath. At the same time though it was weirdly contented which was pretty much the way that each of them felt.

Not that sleeping together in a puppy pile was the most _normal_ way of spending the night, but more that the proximity was at once reassuring in the sense that they were all there and present and alright. Well, okay, so maybe _alright_ was stretching it since their various injuries spoke for themselves but once again they had weathered yet _more_ of the bad guys and come out swinging.

Team Shield all the way.

"Hey man," Dean grinned, "My ass is _not_ sorry."

"Please don't make me have to think about that."

"Too much of a turn on when you're tryin' to sleep, huh?"

" _Dean_ – ,"

"It's okay man, you're only human after all."

Even in the darkness his grin lit the room up, which at least _theoretically_ they could have done without since the ceiling above them seemed _stained_ by a substance that had at some point leaked through from the room up above.

Coffee?

Faeces?

Blood?

Dean grimaced –

Suddenly the whole _axe murderer_ thing didn't seem a stretch and he was grateful when Seth sucked a breath in beside him and forged on with whatever he was trying to say.

"What I _meant_ was that I never saw myself winding up back here – ,"

"The motel?" Dean blinked, "You been here before?"

"Not here – _here_."

Seth waved his arms around like he was indicating something that only he could see, like a concept or a premise or a burgeoning thought process.

Hell, maybe even an imaginary friend.

Perhaps under normal circumstances Dean would have got it and known in an instant what his younger brother meant, but with his kidney aching royally and his sliced up palm thumping it was difficult to make himself focus on the intent,

"Not followin' man."

" _Us_."

Seth flapped his arms again and understanding filtered down to him haltingly,

"Oh."

"Kinda thought by this point I'd be bunking with a girl, you know?"

Dean couldn't help his knee-jerk answer,

"Me too."

The second it was over his lips the mood faltered and he felt both his teammates tense on the bed. Not that he had intended to ruin things exactly –

More that he just couldn't fucking help himself.

When it came to _her_ some days just a mention was enough to throw him into the depths of despair. Which in many ways simultaneously soothed and alarmed him that no matter the timescale it would _never_ be okay.

He liked that though because it meant not forgetting her.

Like the gut wrenching pain kept her memory real –

Because the day the hurt stopped it would mean he'd gotten over her and he was more scared of that revelation happening than not.

Roman put a hand out and in the darkness found a shoulder blade which he squeezed in solidarity,

"You okay babe?"

"Uh huh."

As answers went though it wasn't too convincing and not helped by the pillow in which he'd buried his head and that – as a result – had stifled his syntax and made his words muffled and almost borderline slurred.

Seth sighed,

"Geez man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – ,"

Dean interrupted him with a rough cough,

"S' alright."

Which was bullshit because they all knew it wasn't but then they _also_ knew that Dean wasn't a _dwell on it_ kind of guy –

Or at least not past midnight when he'd been battered into oblivion and they were stuck in fucking nowhere in crappy ass motel, pressed ass cheek to ass cheek on two _jigsawed_ together mattresses and through some quirk of maths just about sharing two quilts.

Besides which it was the same dance they'd been doing for a while now with very little altering in how and when it came up. Dean would be triggered by something to remind him and would retreat into himself and try to fight it down. Meanwhile his brothers would rub his nape soothingly or murmur calming words or ruffle his hair and they would _keep_ doing that until the copper blonde perked up again or sent the conversation sideways with some weird non-sequitur.

"If you were an animal, what would you be uce?"

For whatever reason that was what he went with this time and really it was a credit to both of his teammates that the out of nowhere sentence didn't make them bat an eye,

"Never thought about it."

"Like, if you _had_ to choose one?"

Roman's warm hand fell away from his shoulder and the big man grumbled and turned towards the wall, pulling the comforter up to his neckline and settling down,

"Go to sleep babe."

But that was the thing with Dean –

He was unstoppable.

Like a twitchy force of nature that simply couldn't let go and whether his brain was filled with vengeance or memories or some weird midnight blathering then he had to see it through, which was probably why he continued unabated, chin propped in his good hand,

"You'd be a lion for sure."

 _Huh._

Despite himself Roman was impressed by the assessment – since all things considered it could have been worse – which carried in his deep but appreciative grumble as he quirked a thick eyebrow towards the window,

"You think so?"

"Oh yeah," Dean nodded, "Big and kinda sleepy plus a total fuckin' _kitty_ round the family you know? But if anyone comes in and threatens the pridelands then the teeth and the big ass claws come out. You get all growly and slashy and _bitey_ – that makes you a lion dude."

It was a concept which at some point he had clearly given thought to and so Roman snorted back at him fondly,

"I'll take it uce."

From across the mattress Seth rolled his eyes dramatically, which passed by unseen in the covering dark but was so large an action that it was just about _audible_ although the wry sounding sigh helped carry it as well,

"Do I even _want_ to know what the hell I'd be?"

Dean didn't hesitate,

"A hummingbird."

" _What_?"

"Like always kinda _movin'_ y' know? Real busy. Quick too. Always got somethin' goin' on."

In terms of an assessment it wasn't so out there since all things considered Seth _was_ an antsy guy but with Roman at the head of the animal kingdom the assignment of _little bird_ didn't sit right.

"Come on, you gotta give me something better than _that_ man."

Roman snorted wryly,

"I don't know. I think it fits."

"Well then screw both of you. If anything I'm a tiger."

Dean petted his head,

"Watch those tiny wings."

"Fuck you Dean."

The censure drew deep sounding chuckles that rumbled in gently and bounced off the faecal walls. Yet even though Seth _sounded_ pissed he wasn't too hot about it because the laughter was affectionate and he would never get enough –

None of them would.

They had missed it too much in the months and years since their brotherhood had been gone.

Come the morning they would pile back into their rental and complete the last six hours to make it back home and yet while they were tucked up and sharing a room together, they each of them knew they were bound to sleep well.

" _Ow_."

As Dean moved violently in a spasm of discomfort and tried to flip over onto his side, he managed to kick Seth right in the shin bone before giving up and returning with a grumble to his front.

"So what about you uce?"

It was Roman that asked the question after another few seconds of silence had drifted by and again Dean spoke from the folds of the pillow with a gruff sounding grunt,

"What about me what?"

"What animal would you be?"

"Oh, probably a cockroach or maybe a rat or somethin' _vermin-y_ y' know?"

Silence greeted him but not in a contented way as both of his teammates began to process what he'd said. Even to his own ears it sounded pretty brutal, which wasn't exactly what he had meant, although he wasn't really able to properly explain that before Seth choked a reply out,

"Is that really what you think?"

Roman's hand reappeared on his shoulder but then promptly slid up to knead through his hair in the same way that he might have tousled a puppy that had run into a door or fallen up the stairs, equal parts _are you okay_ and _you idiot_ as he sucked in a deep and steadying breath,

"Listen uce – ,"

Dean got there first,

"I _meant_ I'm a survivor, like, not even nuclear war can stop me y' know?"

"Still ain't right babe."

Dean yawned heavily and shut his eyes against the pillow,

"Yeah? So what do _you_ think I'd be?"

It was Seth who answered first,

"Racoon, kind of fluffy but if you piss 'em off they'll scratch your damn eyeballs right out."

Dean snorted wearily –

He liked that appraisal since it still seemed to fit with his whole _vermin_ thing, plus which the ring-tailed little bastards were adaptable which suited him perfectly.

Roman shook his head,

"Nah, my man over here is a _puppy._ Chasing his own tail, trying to bite the postman, putting his head out the window – ,"

"Takin' a shit in the yard."

Dean's rejoinder was laced with exhaustion which pierced the cool air with an amused little grunt.

Roman tousled in a little bit deeper and bit back his laughter.

"Last time we barbecue at yours."

Seth rolled onto his back and pushed the covers down, still clearly thinking,

"What about a wolf?"

Roman nodded,

"That could fit."

Better than _could_ though –

In fact it was perfect and sowed everything up.

A wolf was quiet and intelligent and expressive but could also bounce around and behave like a pup. It could live on its own and eke out an existence but tended to be happier when it was part of the pack. Wolves were loyal and monogamous to their partners and pined for those family members they'd lost.

What was that if not their teammate?

Plus their crazy brother was a lover of nature and hiking trails and woodlands and soaring mountains topped with snow.

"How about it then babe? You think you're a wolfman?"

Silence greeted them and Seth blinked,

"Dean?"

The answer they got was a deep exhalation which fell out again a mere second after that and began to fill the space like it was on repeat function sounding loose and contented.

He was asleep.

Grunting fondly Roman brushed through the bangs again and then turned back over onto his side as the waves of exhaustion that had taken his brother started to tug at his own weary eyes. Seth moved again and the mattress creaked unhappily causing him to curse which made Roman mildly grin,

"You okay?"

"Can't get comfy, Dean's hogging the covers."

Perhaps he really _was_ a puppy dog after all –

One of those ones that thought it was a little breed when really it was a big ass _gangly_ sort of thing.

Fortunately a little more flapping with the covers seemed to get the matter under control and Seth settled back and blew a tired breath out,

"Night uce."

"Night man."

They all slept pretty well.

* * *

 **So…*awaits nervously* did you like?**

 **Next week...um...next week is hard to describe, but let's just say that a certain wrestling couple makes a cameo in a very unexpected way! It also features someone we have never actually met before but probably feels like we already have (so many teases!)**


	10. How To Train Your Dog

**I literally have no idea to explain what this is so I guess you'll just have to read and find out. This was based on a very sensible request to involve two certain characters, which I did...sort of!**

 **Debwood-1999 , Oh yeah, now you say it, I remember the cockroach promo too! Must have been buried away in my subconscious! Puppy pile sleeping is the best, much cosier!**

 **Skovko, You know, sometimes I'm worried that we were separated at birth...former rat owner here as well! Loved my little ratty boys, they were the absolute best (except for the biter!)**

 **Minnie1015, Seth is so a hummingbird, right?! I do have days where I write loads then delete everything because it doesn't 'click' but then just as I get downhearted I end up full force again!**

 **Mandy, Three times in the first night? I must have done something right then, yay! I loved the last one too, it was just one of the ones that was super easy to write, which does** _ **not**_ **always happen!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Figured I hadn't done enough brotherly teasing stories so decided to amend that. Glad it hit you in the feels, I cruelly aim to make them hurt one way or another every week!**

 **Ninjoy, I just see Seth being grossed out by bugs! I swear I have such a fetish for Roman tousling Dean's hair (see Little Brother for further reference). I'm your favourite? Awww *blushes***

 **Wwe21, I really liked last week's too! Although I probably shouldn't have favourites among my own stories! This week is one of your suggestions too...with a bit of a twist to it (okay, a** _ **big**_ **twist!)**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, I think I should do more of these one-shots as cute little day to day things (got ideas) this one is kind of halfway between those, cute but also serious (also weird!)**

 **Cherry619, I will officially add 'schmoop' to my writing CV! But yeah, I loved the last one too. Definitely need to do more schmoopy chapters (sorry, you've reminded me I love words like that!)**

 **Anne Carter, Hey, I should have had them adopt a dog! I do love me some doggy fluff...and if you don't believe me, just read this chapter!**

 **Are we ready for something a little different?**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: How To Train Your Dog**

 **Choosing The Right Breed**

Dean stared in over the desktop at the commissioner with a look of cautious horror that teetered on disbelief, a brow rising up beneath his copper blonde scruff mop –

"You hate me don't you? That's what this is."

In reply to the accusal the woman gazed back evenly and made a steeple of her fingers which she tucked beneath her chin,

"I was told to put my best man on this one and that's _you_ Ambrose."

"It's bullshit."

"I agree."

Dean blinked.

Hold everything. The boss was on _his_ side? Since when had _that_ ever happened before and more importantly what did it mean for the assignment that he was seemingly being dragged kicking and screaming aboard?

Stephanie sat back and pushed a folder across the hardwood which Dean stopped with his fingers before it slid onto the floor. Flicking back the cover he found a gory crime scene photograph but in real terms no worse than a million others he'd come across. It showed a man on a white tiled floor who'd been shot in the chest and had been beaten as well, with a red pool of blood having formed behind his shoulders and a weathered sort of face that was both bruised and scuffed.

"Pat Patterson, former District Attorney."

Dean looked up,

"Friend of the family?"

"I've known Patty since I was a kid."

She was keeping it held in but her blue-grey eyes were shimmering and when she wasn't talking she was biting on her lip. Otherwise though her expression was neutral and if you'd only just met her it would been easy to get sucked in and believe all the hype and the columns in the papers that described her as heartless or forged out of steel.

Dean knew better though. He knew _Steph_ better which included knowing when she was broken down or hurt. It made him soften just a little and huff a breath out, gesturing roughly,

"M' sorry."

"Thank you."

Although it didn't change the fact that the case was still bullshit. Or _his_ part in it was anyway. Because he wasn't being asked to track down the murderer or guard the crime scene or anything like that. _He_ was being tasked with something more outlandish and he shook his head in bafflement and said the word again,

" _Dogs_?"

"They won't be any trouble."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"They're fully housebroken."

"Could say the same 'bout me."

Stephanie didn't blink and she didn't move either. She just continued to eyeball him over the desk, as if the stare down alone would make him comply to the order, which in anyone else it probably would. But Dean was not _anyone_ and well they both knew it. She'd said it herself. He was her best guy and _go-to_ man. One of a total of three _best guys_ originally which had dwindled down to two in spectacular fashion when their youngest man had willingly stabbed them in the back.

Even that had been weirdly okay though, because there had still been the two of them – brothers – up until three weeks ago, when Roman had packed up and left without warning and delivered him to a world of abandonment and hurt. The Big Dog wasn't even answering his phone calls, or emails or texts or anything in between. What Dean didn't need was some crazy case on top of that which he put to Steph with a flap of vague frustration as his frazzled head swam with a myriad of crap _._

"Why can't you have 'em adopted or somethin'?"

"They're witnesses."

Dean coughed,

" _They're wit_ – to fuckin' what?"

"The murder."

"Of their _owner_?"

It had to be a hoax thing or some sort of practical joke type setup for sure. Like there were cameras rigged up in corners of the office and the case was fictitious and being filmed for laughs. No way could the police chief commission of the city be asking him to provide witness protection for two _dogs_. Stephanie's expression though didn't even _flicker_ which dropped a stone into his stomach.

Oh god, she _was_.

"M' not fuckin' doin' it."

"You don't get a choice here."

Because _best man_ or not Steph McMahon was still the boss, which left him with precious little room to manoeuvre save for shaking his head bitterly and letting out a huff,

" _No_."

"It's just until we can organize the line-up."

Dean blinked in astonishment,

"You're _shittin'_ me, right? You're gonna ask two _dogs_ to pick out the murderer?"

She wasn't _shitting_ him –

That wasn't really her style.

"We have a list of suspects and a possible motive, the line-up is to confirm that our suspicions are right."

Dean swiped a hand across his face,

"This is crazy."

"I thought you liked animals."

He glared back at her.

"I do, but whatever the fuck _that_ is, it isn't an animal."

He was pointing to another snapshot jumbled among the rest of them and just poking out beneath the grisly crime scene one. It was of two little faces peering up at the camera but while one of them was cute looking the other one was not.

"He's a Chinese crested."

Dean frowned,

"He's a what now?"

Because _hairless ratball_ would have been a better name. The thing was fucking bald and skinny and kind of _wrinkled_ but with a long crop of fringing that had been slicked back between its ears and gave it the appearance of some sleazy kind of douchebag who thought he looked fly but wasn't really all there. He couldn't walk that thing in the street and not be slaughtered –

But Stephanie didn't seem half so concerned.

"The other one only speaks French, she's a Maltese."

Dean shook his head.

Okay, _Twilight Zone_.

Was she seriously expecting him to take on two pooches who either spoke different languages or looked like a rat? Where had _that_ paragraph been in his contract? He cleared his throat roughly,

"Steph, alright, look – ,"

Because surely at some point rational conversation – not usually his thing – would have to win out and his captain would see what she was asking was batshit and nutso not to mention _way_ out of line. Unfortunately however that wasn't what happened as instead she simply thrust him an address.

"Only for a few days, this is where to pick them up from."

He took it with a grumble,

"You owe me for this."

She smiled back thinly but chose to say nothing until he had made it right the way across the room, with one hand wrapped sullenly around the chrome handle before she added the final touch.

"They're called Maryse and The Miz."

 **Introducing Your New Dog To The Home**

The apartment smelt amazing when he stepped across the threshold – a combination of cooking spices, home and just _her_ – as she danced around the kitchen to the radio and sang along absently and cutest of all, not very well. On hearing the door slam she called out towards him,

"Dinner will probably be in ten, you've got time to hop in the shower if you want to, I guessed you'd had a rough day so I'm chilling you a beer."

 _Fuck_ he loved her.

The one person who just _got_ him like they were joined by some brain thread or formation of the stars. Without a single doubt she was _miles_ too good for him and he expected every day for her to figure that out, but then it had been over two years already and she was still there _and_ had agreed to marry his sorry ass. She loved him. She made his shitty life bearable –

Like when his best friend had essentially got up and abandoned him or when he'd been forced to bring home two weird ass dogs.

The dogs.

 _Jesus Christ_.

He already regretted it and all he'd fucking done was drive them home in the car. The white one was fine. Kind of prissy but docile with her major downfall being that she didn't speak the native tongue and which meant that she had come with an actual damn _phrasebook_ to help him give commands that she would hopefully understand. She had a little pink collar with diamond studs on it and blank if not slightly worrisome eyes but at least she hadn't tried to rip his damn throat out like the other one had done.

The naked rat dog.

 _Miz._

If there was an opposite to the love at first sight deal then whatever it was the little fucker had it with him. All Dean had done was take the leash from the assistant at the kennels where the things were being temporarily kept and the wrinkly little bastard had gone for his ankle and tried to shred it with his razor sharp teeth.

" _He can be a little temperamental sometimes_."

That's what the woman had said in response, in what was clearly a mastery of genius understatement or else plain stupidity.

" _But then he has had a shock_."

Which was true of _Dean_ too all things considered since the whole fucking deal was completely insane and he was still bemoaning it in a string of dark mutters as he stepped into the hall dragging the canids in behind.

Mix snapped for his ankles,

"Asshole."

"Did you say something?"

His girl appeared around the door, her hair a little frizzy from having stood over the cooker and wearing her pyjamas which made her look fucking cute. She always liked jumping straight into her fleece pants the second she made it back home from her shift, sometimes not even getting through to their bedroom before stripping off layers. Which was totally fine by Dean. She stopped in astonishment and opened her mouth a little and then closed it again, not knowing what to say. She didn't seem pissed but then she didn't seem much of _anything_ other than totally and utterly blown away.

"Are you kidding me right now?"

His exact words from earlier and he blew a short breath out and put his hands up,

"I know, but it won't be for long and they're – ,"

She squealed at him,

"They're _adorable_ , oh my goodness, _look_ at these fluffs."

She was past him in a second and down on her kneecaps tickling their house guests under their chins and putting her face so close to their noses that her beautiful features were right next to their teeth,

"Fuck, don't – ,"

Dean had a hand out towards her before he realized they were wagging their tails, even asshole Miz who went so far as to put a paw up and lever himself closer. Choosy little shit. Still, Dean couldn't really blame them too much for loving her in under a second because she _was_ pretty great and a veritable beacon for the lost and unlovable as he himself knew only too well.

"Where did you get these guys?"

She looked enraptured and quickly pulled Maryse up into her arms, snuggling the ball of white fur against her neckline and cooing little words that barely made any sense.

"They're part of a case, their owner was murdered."

"Poor little babies."

"We gotta keep 'em for a few days, but, I mean, if you don't want to – ,"

She gasped at him in horror like he'd uttered some sort of damn racial slur and then held Maryse even closer against her and covered her ears like she might somehow have heard

"Of _course_ I want to keep them, but they're going to need kibble and beds and jackets – ,"

Dean cut her off,

"I got all that shit in the car, I'll go grab it. You alright if I leave you here with 'em for a tick?"

In response she snuggled the prissy puppy tighter and whispered against her fur in blissful tones,

"Uh huh."

As Dean turned around to head back out of the apartment though, Miz trotted over and growled at him again, with his little teeth bared and his hackles up and everything before lunging without warning for his ankles,

" _Asshole_."

" _Dean_ , come on, you probably just startled him."

"That dog fuckin' hates me."

"He's a sweetheart baby, look."

To make her point she slowly put her hand out and the bald little bastard skittered back across, tucking in underneath her elbow merrily and then actually damn well _smirking_ at the cop.

"Now he's laughin' at me."

"I think you might be paranoid, he just needs to settle in, maybe having their stuff will help?"

"Can't make it any worse," Dean sighed back regretfully, pulling his keys from the back pocket of his pants and grazing his fingers across the curled up little phrasebook which he tossed across with a whistle, "Heads up."

It landed on the carpet and idiot Miz growled at it, although his girl didn't look much more enamoured than he was.

"What's that?"

"The one you're holdin' doesn't speak any English."

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

For some reason she squealed again, like the fact they had a refugee dog that couldn't communicate was literally the best thing that had happened since sliced bread and at once she produced her phone from out of nowhere and held it up so all three of them were squarely in shot.

"Smile puppers."

Dean gave an eye roll but was biting a wry smirk down as he headed out the door, returning ten minutes later half-laden with items that comprised everything from dog beds to gold plated food bowls. Clearly the dearly deceased Pat Patterson had pretty much doted on his weeny little dogs which was probably why The Miz was such a damn asshole and Maryse looked bewildered so much of the time.

On stepping through the door he expected to be shredded and was mildly alarmed when no rat dogs appeared. For a horrible second he wondered if they'd gotten hungry and were busy somewhere eating his girl although the reality turned out to be a whole deal more weirder and – even by his standards – cuter as well. His fiancée was lying on the sofa looking happy with a dog on either side of her out for the count. Miz still growled in his sleep as Dean stepped closer but otherwise he actually looked peaceful for once and not like the feral little demon no-hairball that had attempted to savage him an hour ago. She grinned,

"I think they like it here."

"I think they like _you_ more."

Her eyes shone happily,

"Can we keep them?"

"No."

 **Socializing Your Puppy**

The first sign of trouble happened three days into their foster role and one morning when all four of them were out at the park. For Dean it felt like a fucking _week_ already but luckily his girl was still over the moon.

His relationship with Miz had not improved any and had in fact worsened quite a distance the night before when the weird little brute had jumped onto the mattress on his fucking side and then refused to get off. As in flat out refused and then growled at him repeatedly before lunging for his hand when he'd tried to scoot him off. In the end Dean had been forced to grab him by the neck scruff – which meant actually _touching_ the hairless skin folds – before marching him briskly towards the bedroom door and out again, grumbling as he went,

"Not your bed asshole."

His girl had called after him,

"Don't be so mean."

He had barely been able to dump Miz in his _own_ bed and retreat back to their room before the rabid thing came back again, slamming head first against the stained beechwood as Dean slammed the door and kept it firmly shut.

"Fucker."

"You're just jealous because I'm his favorite."

Dean had wrapped her up and kissed her,

"Yes I am."

On the universal dick scale that Dean had invented and which Miz seemed to move up several times a day, Maryse was comparatively close to the bottom but irritating too in her own specific way and not least in the fact that she didn't speak the language. Or simply _pretended_ not to at any rate. Then there was the fact that she was such a fussy eater that Dean had begun to wonder if she might slowly starve, turning her nose up at the kibble he was given and that he had been _assured_ the damn thing liked. She didn't and in fact peered into her bowl like it was poison or they had attempted to serve her up a dead rat, while Dean rooted through the phrasebook like an idiot trying to find a sentence he hoped might vaguely work. Then when they hadn't he'd referred to the internet,

"Me faut retourner à la pute qui m'a accouchée."

His girl had blinked across at him,

"Wow, what does _that_ mean?"

"Go back to the whore that gave birth to you."

"Nice Dean."

What had _not_ been nice however was the fact that the damn dog had eaten some of _their_ meal, because apparently his girl had been so damn worried that a prime cut of steak was the only thing she thought might work. It had of course because the dog wasn't stupid, although evidently _they_ were –

She'd been eating cooked steak ever since.

By the time they made it to the dog park therefore, Dean was pretty much done with the whole thing and so therefore only paying very scant attention as his four-legged charges yapped like assholes and ran around. They weren't exactly the most social dogs either. Or at least, unsurprisingly, fucking _Miz_ was not since his whole approach to meeting new canines was to bark at them like he was dragging steel balls and then running off yelping like he'd been totally savaged whenever the other hassled dog got pissed off. Maryse just sort of followed Miz mostly and Dean had to wonder if she even spoke _dog_. Perhaps she only spoke one language universally and so stuck close to her mate so he could translate for her.

 _Sweetie, this is some fucker I've been barking at – random dog that's done nothing, this is my wife._

Their bond was actually weirdly cute sometimes and especially in how damn protective Miz was. Because while the tetchy bastard didn't like him at the best of times, he especially did not like him _anywhere_ near Maryse and would come down the hallway like an exocet missile if Dean so much as smiled at her. Which Dean may or may _not_ have done to get the shit angry in the deepening grudge they seemed to have going on, which was crazy really since _it was an animal_.

Who just happened to be his worst enemy as well.

The dog park was a chance to get out of the apartment and let the four-legged fiends burn off some steam and it also allowed Dean and his girl some time together without one of the pooches trying to push in between.

She kissed him,

"Think maybe we could get our own dog someday? In preparation I mean."

"Preparation for what?"

She kissed him again and then thumbed at his cheekbones, grinning like a devil,

"For when we have kids?"

In response to her simultaneous _teasing-but-not-teasing_ Dean shook his head and wrapped his arm around her neck, dragging her closer in a pseudo sort of headlock until she giggled like a child,

"Anything you want."

The fact there was a man staring at them across the railings and tucked behind a tree didn't register at first and only caught Dean's eye as he vaguely glanced up again on hearing a distant car alarm going off. The guy was dressed in black and smoking a cigarette whilst trying to look casual but failing at once. Partly because he looked so god damn furtive but mostly because Dean was a long-time cop and therefore almost trained like a bloodhound to sniff out _criminal_ which was rolling in from their spectator in waves. Not just any type of villain smell either, but a very distinctive sort of _organized crime_ one.

 _Shit_.

At some point his girl had untangled herself and slipped off from him to deal with some issue pertaining to the dogs which could have been anything from bagging up doo-doo to unclamping The Miz from a passerby's leg. The emptiness struck him like a thunderbolt instantly and he searched the park frantically until he found her.

 _Thank god._

Steaming across the greenery he quickly grabbed her arm up, cutting off her confusion with a low rumble,

"We need to go."

He had no idea what the staring guy wanted but whatever it was it clearly wasn't good and his main aim was to get the love of his life out of there and preferably with the dogs. Assuming they were what he was there for. For all Dean knew it could have been a collar from years back looking to exact his revenge, although it seemed more than likely that he was there for the pooches which meant that Steph's god damn case had brought potential danger to his door.

Fuck.

They were halfway through snapping the leashes back around them when his fiancée suddenly hummed and straightened up, peering down at the animals a little uneasily as Dean kept on scanning for their observer.

Where had he gone?

"I think she's sick."

"What?"

"Maryse, Dean look at her."

He glanced down almost absently and then stopped. The dog looked bad. Her head was hanging down and she was panting and stumbling as if the short burst of movement had completely worn her out. She looked like she was about a hundred eighty seven instead of a sprightly little five years old.

Crap.

"I think she might need to see a veterinarian."

Dean tugged his girl towards the exit,

"Uh huh."

"Will you take her?"

"Sure."

His eyes were searching wildly but as far as he could tell, the eerie stalker was gone. Not that it mattered since the asshole had been there and _god_ did he have some words for Stephanie over that. No way would he let that shit come near his home life and that fact that it had meant he was over and out.

"So I'll make an appointment then?"

"For what?"

"To get her looked at."

Dean bit back a groan and then waved his hands around,

"Fine."

She wouldn't like the fact that he wanted to return them, but she didn't get a choice –

He was doing it for her.

 **Basic Commands**

"How long have you known the dogs were bein' followed?"

Stephanie looked up from a paper stack,

"What?"

It was by no means unusual for Dean to just walk in on her so that wasn't the part that startled her the most and nor was she perturbed by the nonchalant manner in which he dropped himself down into a chair before the desk. What caught her by surprise was his weirdly steely manner and the clench of his jaw as he interlaced his hands, steepling them much as she had done a few days earlier in what was clearly an attempt at a measure of calm.

His blue eyes flashed,

"How long have you known?"

"Known or suspected?"

He snorted.

 _Of course_.

Stephanie McMahon had not climbed to the summit of law enforcement power by being a mook and like her father and grandfather and _great_ grandfather before her she was wily and crafty and often devious,

"Both."

Sitting back with a sigh and dropping her pen down as if realizing that her dog based game was up, Steph turned to level him with her own firm expression which didn't so much as flicker to show she was telling him the truth.

"I told you we had a suspect and we do, but what we _don't_ have is a way to tie it to him."

"So you fuckin' set me up."

It wasn't a question because he already knew the answer and evidently so did the boss, who simply drew in a long breath like she was tired and cleared her throat lightly as she slowly opened up.

"We thought that if we put around word about the line-up then it might draw the killer out."

" _We_ being you and pop?"

Vince McMahon –

The city's erstwhile mayor and Stephanie's old man and role model to boot. Naturally the pair of them had created the plan together and chosen _him_ as their patsy. Wasn't he a lucky duck? Although frankly it didn't even begin to put over the sheer amounts of anger that Dean felt inside. A bubbling, twisting sort of _rare-for-him_ fury that made his eyeballs pulse and his scattered thoughts run wild.

"My girl is at home."

It was part of a larger sentence that he wasn't quite able to put into words because it seemed too important and life-altering to vocalize the fact that he couldn't lose anyone else.

First Seth –

Then Roman –

One by one they'd turned away from him until the only thing still left in his pathetic world was her. His shining star and the person he breathed for which was why he _could not_ let her come to any harm and why he would have taken a bullet to stop it. She was all he had. She was his everything and more. Although he didn't _say_ it he clearly didn't need to because Stephanie's face sort of softened in understanding and she nodded her head sympathetically,

"I know."

"If anythin' happens to her – ,"

"It won't do."

"How the fuck do you know?"

"We've had people watching you."

Dean blinked.

"What?"

She had put cops on babysitting?

How the fuck had he not noticed _that_?

Although he hadn't fucking noticed because he hadn't been looking since he'd only just worked out he was being used as a pawn. Now that he came to think about it however there _had_ been a black saloon car stationed out in front which hadn't moved for three or four days maximum. He just assumed someone was visiting with friends.

"We've been watching your apartment to make sure you were safe."

Her blank faced ease caught him completely the wrong way and before he even knew what he was doing he was laughing like a maniac in total and utter disbelief,

" _Safe_? You wanna know what woulda kept me _safe_ boss? Not givin' me two dogs with a killer on their ass."

For a second it looked like she was going to argue it but then she gave up because what was the point? Even if she'd _wanted_ to she couldn't have defended it as anything other than a shitty thing to do and especially to the person she classed her chief fixer and in some ways a _friend_.

"I apologize, okay?"

 _Jesus_.

The earth juddered and then spun on its axis as pigs took to the skies.

Steph never _ever_ showed remorse and even if she felt it she kept that shit hidden in some deep dark cavity that didn't see the light of day and was inhabited by spirits and haggard little figures and shrill and bitterly screaming ghouls.

Dean blinked,

"Uh – ,"

"I just wanted a result on this."

"Because the victim was a friend of the family?"

She sucked a deep breath in then nodded,

"Yes."

Her eyes were shimmering again in the half-light and Dean couldn't help but let his anger tail off. Throwing him under the bus had not been personal or some weird sort of punishment but a symptom of grief and Steph doing the sole thing she had within her power other than breaking down and taking the week off. That might have been a good response for most normal people and probably the _healthiest_ response there was too, but McMahons were not built like regular humans and so they drowned their emotions with hard work and booze. In reality she was lost and looking for a lifeline, which Dean gave her grudgingly,

"Some guy was watchin' us at the park, not a cop either, tall, late thirties, dark hair."

Her head bounced up with purpose,

"Anything else?"

Dean scratched his head,

"Uh, not really. Was mostly tryin' to get my girl outta there, didn't hang around to draw a fuckin' _sketch_ , y' know?"

Stephanie nodded and in an instant she was herself again, sifting through folders of what he vaguely assumed were suspects and then discounting them speedily, one by one.

"Okay, that's good, it's something we can work with."

He took another breath,

"M' bringin' the dogs back. I can't have 'em in my apartment with this guy sniffin' round 'em."

She paused for a second – a file hanging from her fingers – then nodded shortly,

"I understand."

"I'll bring 'em back in the mornin' with all their food an' stuff."

Plus a few scattered additional items since Dean's girl couldn't seem to walk past a pet store without disappearing in and coming out with more crap. Why would a dog need a pair of _sunglasses_? He hadn't really got it but she had argued they would.

" _Dogs eyes hurt too."_

Dean rolled his eyes fondly and then stood from the cushion and pulled something from his pocket before he forgot it was there,

"Had to take Maryse to get checked out earlier, that's the bill, it'll make your eyes water though."

"What was the problem?"

Dean crossed the room grinning before stopping on the threshold.

"You're gonna be an aunt."

 **How To Tell If Your Dog Is Aggressive**

It was typical really that the moment he decided to hand the dogs back was _still_ a moment too late, which he realized almost the second he picked up on Miz barking when he hadn't even made it up the stairs to their floor.

At some point – he wasn't completely sure when it had happened – he had managed to attune to the sound of each pooch, like a damn mother penguin in a colony of thousands who could precisely pinpoint the unique call of her chick.

Not that he had _bonded_ with them – he was pretty adamant on that front – more that he had learnt to pick up on their inflections for when Miz was trying to savage another dog or bite the shins clean off a passing jogger or a squirrel or a pigeon or a fucking police horse.

Really the hairless ratbag barked at _everything_ –

But something about _this_ bark just sounded wrong.

It was punchy and shrill and insistent and desperate and louder than it should have been.

Dean sped up.

On bursting from the stairwell into the corridor the first thing he noticed was that Miz was outside, standing on the runner and having a conniption at the door to apartment.

He was _outside_?

How and why?

As Dean jogged towards him he expected to be shredded which was their usual greeting in terms of love and respect but instead the little dog just looked up and then kept barking in what was clearly a sense of _just let me the fuck in_.

A stone dropped into the pit of Dean's stomach and then lodged there in conjunction with a sudden icy chill, that swept up around him and made his head _buzzy_ with a flooding adrenaline that had spent years being honed.

Something was wrong –

There was a tremor in the atmosphere and feeling it made his hand move instinctively for his gun.

"Fuck."

The gun he _didn't_ have since he'd gone straight from the dog park to the damn veterinarian's and then to chew out Steph.

Reaching the door Dean scooped Miz up bodily and it was clear from that moment that shit _must_ have been up because not only did the tetchy little dog not try to eat him but he actually let him do it like he knew Dean could help.

Fumbling the key into the lock he clicked it open and the second he did he could hear the shower was on which must have meant his girl was in there –

Then he noticed the dirty footprint on the rug.

In his arms Miz yipped and then struggled like a demon before physically launching himself out of Dean's grasp and landing with an actual grunt of exertion in a pile of limbs although he picked himself up. His spindly little legs worked so hard on the runner that for a split second all he did was ruffle the thing up but the second he got trajectory he shot off like he'd been fired and charged straight for the bedroom where the master bathroom – and shower – was.

 _Shit_.

Dean ploughed after him but wasn't quite as speedy which was why he heard rather than saw the killer first.

" _Argh_."

He _also_ heard the familiar sound of growling and burst into the chaos to give the little guy a hand.

Maryse was cowering on the bed by the pillows, her poor little body trembling with fear and although Dean cast around very briefly – apart from the shower noise – there was no sign of his girl.

What there very much _was_ however was a bulky guy stood directly in the middle of the room, with a black leather jacket and gloves and a bandana which was tied up high to disguise his face. In one hand he was holding what looked like a flick knife and he was just about to plunge the shining blade down –

Down into the hairless little bastard around his ankle who was snarling and chewing and refusing to let go.

"Lil' _shit_ , get the fuck _off_ me – ,"

Dean had to admit that the canine had balls and – when it came down to it – was defending his girlfriend which was an instinct that he could jive with only too well and also the reason that he crossed the space between them in a fully horizontal, football-worthy tackling dive.

"Hey – ,"

" _Oof_."

He drove the wind out of the killer and then himself too as they both hit the wall, slamming against it before toppling sideways and ending up in a pile of limbs on the ground. The hand with the knife rose up as if to shank him but he quickly caught the wrist and fought hard to keep it up, not really wanting to deal with being stabbed there or what would happen if he was laid out.

Somewhere in the background his girl started singing and relief flooded through him at the realization she wasn't hurt.

In fact the brawl wasn't troubling her remotely.

She had no damn idea it was even going on.

Dean's elbow buckled as the killer drove a fist up and caught him on the tender underside of his jaw which let the knife edge inch in closer until it grazed his earlobe and drew a nick of blood.

 _Fuck_.

Dean might well have been fighting for his family but the killer was fighting to remain uncaught and in the grand scheme of things – in terms of motivation – they turned out to be pretty evenly matched.

Throwing a fist back Dean buried it mid-features and the bandana fell away as the guy yelped out a cuss,

" _Shit_ – ,"

He was an ugly looking dude with a face that was well-weathered from what was either a tough life or having been out in the rain. There was a desperation too which glinted in the eyeballs and shone out as a craziness that made Dean look half-sane. A knee rose up and caught him square between the hipbones and Dean grunted which allowed the knife to drop in again. Another hair's breadth and it would find out his artery –

Although as it turned out, it didn't get that far.

The next thing Dean knew there was a fierce sounding growling and Miz was there again trying to grab the guy's _throat_. In fact the hairless weasel was practically rabid and actually frothing right around his rippling mouth. At once the knife swung but as it moved away from him, Dean took his chance to twist the wrist round, chopping at the bundle of nerves beneath the palm heel and then breathing out a sigh as the weapon skittered off.

With the guy's hands up to stop himself from being eaten, Dean was able to throw a couple of jabs more, burying them in and around the guy's stomach and grabbing the asshole up by his shirt. Miz came with it – sort of clinging to the collar – but Dean was too breathless and pumped up to care much and instead simply planted an almighty thumping right hook into the guy's temple which clean knocked him out. The oversized body slumped back against the carpet and Miz continued growling and tugging on the shirt. Dean however had other inclinations and as the shower shut off merrily he stumbled back up.

On opening the door to the bathroom steam billowed, from where she'd had the water on far too hot, which was something that he sometimes had a tendency to complain about – or at the least tease her over – but certainly not tonight.

By the time he got there she had stepped out dripping and wrapped herself – still humming – in big fluffy towel. She turned just in time to see him coming towards her and smiled like she was vaguely surprised he was there which promptly doubled as he dragged her physically close to him and dropped his face into her wet and floral scented hair.

"Fuck."

"Dean? Hey, is everything alright babe?"

Somewhere in the background he could hear dog-based grumbling but it sounded contented like Miz was doing the same thing and making sure the person he loved above all others was there and safe and generally okay.

" _Mmhmm_."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded against her, holding her as tight as her slender body would allow.

He couldn't live without her –

Not even for a second and he mumbled it to her,

"You're my whole fuckin' world."

 **Choosing To Neuter Your Dog**

The dogs had been given free run of the kitchen which was kind of saying something since the thing was fucking _huge_ , easily the size of their entire apartment and with big double doors onto the gardens as well.

In a corner by the cooker – where the room was the warmest – there was a mesh crate which was filled with a dog bed and quilts. There was a low wave of noise radiating up from it which was squeaky and snuffly and _cute_ all at once.

Linda McMahon gestured keenly towards it and then stepped a little closer.

Dean's girl followed suit, un-suckering her hand from his in sheer eagerness and tiptoeing across the crazy expensive tiled floor, wearing her winter boots and a thickly woven red dress she had spent forever choosing, not knowing what to wear,

" _We're going to the mayor's house_."

" _So_?"

" _I need to look right_."

Dean was dressed simply in jeans and thick work boots, not clothed any different than he usually was. He didn't really do the whole deference thing anyway, besides which it was Vince who knew him damn well enough to know that the detective was not a suit and tie guy.

Or rather he had _assumed_ it would be Vince doing the greeting but instead it had turned out to be his long-suffering wife, who had glanced very briefly as his random sloganed t-shirt and then smiled warmly,

" _You must be Dean, come on in_."

Clearly his reputation had preceded him although he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Good though – he figured – since they'd made it across the threshold and into the inner sanctum without being thrown out. Although that was likely to do with his fiancée whose smile and bright eyes had always managed to grease wheels. Along with pulling him out of his headspace when he began to debate or think too hard, which was what she did then by gasping in astonishment before waving him over,

"Oh my goodness, come see."

The first thing he saw on rounding the counter was Miz sitting up by the crate looking proud. As in _genuinely_ smug like some nobel prize winner who was stood up on the podium and drinking in wild applause.

He didn't launch for Dean which was a pleasant transition and had tentatively built since their shared part in the brawl although the pair of them were not what Dean would have called _bonded_ by any respects.

Miz wasn't trying to eat him though.

After the killer had been led from their apartment and charged with the murder of poor old Pat, Stephanie had rewarded him by taking the dogs back again and returning life to normal although his girl had been upset –

Which was the reason they were standing in the mayor's fucking _kitchen_ as part of a promise to let her snuggle with the pups, whom Steph had clearly lumbered on her parents almost the second after hustling them off from their place. Dean couldn't imagine Vince owning a rat dog but Linda on the other hand seemed besotted with them both and so really it was one of those _all's well that ends wells_ in that the pooches were being cared for and were happy and loved.

It certainly seemed to have settled The Miz down and Dean patted his head lightly,

"How's it going asshole?"

Miz bared a tooth but it was more of a courtesy than an actual growl and Dean snorted,

 _Thought as much._

But the main event was across in the puppy pen and he stooped down towards in a squat beside his girl, who grabbed up his hand and then squeezed it fiercely in wild excitement and full-on girly vibes.

"Look."

Maryse was tucked in a comfy looking corner with her usual worried eyes but an additional sort of glow which was possibly due to the fact her bangs were swept back and had actually been tied with a little pink bow. Thank _Christ_ his girl hadn't tried _that_ one a week back or they would have been laughed out of the dog park for sure.

As it had turned out Maryse had just had one pup which was why her pregnancy had been hidden so well and also why she had turned out to be further along the process than anyone had bet on and given birth four days after the brawl.

The puppy itself was a squeaking little bundle, a worm-like little thing as white as driven snow but with tiny pink paw pads and an oversized pink nose that Dean assumed she would eventually grow into. She had hair as well and two tiny little black dots on each of her ear flaps that wiggled when she squeaked.

Okay –

She was pretty fucking cute.

"Félicitations maman."

His girl was speaking French to her in a gentle little whisper which was fucking cute itself and Dean bit a smile down and squeezed at her fingers as she stroked the puppy's fur.

Miz trotted closer and Dean high-five him,

"Well done man, like, seriously dude, well done."

As the three of them sat comfortably around the little dog crate and watched the new mother gently wash her baby's head, Dean's fiancée looked up, still enraptured and whispered to Linda,

"Do you have a name?"

The older woman smiled,

"I thought you might like to do that, for keeping them safe."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm, go ahead."

Her face screwed up at once and it was obvious she was thinking, hard as well if her frown was any hint. Names flickered over her eyes and then fled again as she considered and then discounted them one by one. Finally however she landed on something and sort of gave herself an affirmative little nod, at the same time taking Dean's hand again firmly and smiling at him lovingly,

"I want to name her after you."

"Dean?"

She rolled her eyes and snorted,

"Not _Dean_ idiot – but something to remind us that you actually fought for her."

Her fingers traced up and touched the nick on his earlobe where the killer's knife had split the skin open and left a crusty deep red scab.

Linda smiled lightly,

"I like that idea very much."

Dean blinked,

"So – like – Ambrose or what?"

It wasn't really a girly monika or very cutesy but then evidently his fiancée was already one step ahead, which wasn't surprising since she usually was and which was the reason that he loved her as passionately as he did.

"How about Ambros _ia_?"

He blinked and then nodded, touched by her wanting to honor him at all. Leaning forward he pecked her lips gently, briefly forgetting Linda was there, although thankfully she merely moved away just a little and pretended she wasn't listening,

"I love you, y' know?"

His girl grinned back,

"I know, I love your ass."

He glanced at the pup,

"So, Ambrosia it is."

He knew that pretty soon that she would ask if they could have her and because of their working hours he would have to say no, but he _also_ knew he would grant her dream one day soon though and buy her a house with a big backyard _and_ a dog.

Roman had gone and left him kind of broken but he still had her and that made life just fine.

As long as she was with him, he could take on fucking _anything_.

It was him and her against the world.

* * *

 **So...um...thoughts?!**

 **P.S. My apologies to Pat Patterson for killing him off here...my bad?!**

 **Next week, Dean goes undercover as a patient in an asylum and has to confront some very real emotions while Seth and Roman do their usual fretting. It's a good one!**


	11. Madhouse

**This request is based on one by LHisawesome4ever (see, I didn't forget about it) and finally gives Dean the chance to face down his demons. It's also the reason we met his girl in the last one, to help flesh his grief out a bit. It's a sad one this week, but massive bromance throughout.**

 **Sodapop25, Hi, welcome to this mad little world as well. I have my fingers in many pies as you can probably tell at this point. Hope you enjoy this series too!**

 **Skovko, Please don't ask me why I saw Miz as a Chinese crested! I'm blaming it on that mad side parting he has (Maryse is totally a Maltese though!) Also,** _ **hey**_ **, not drinking coffee isn't so bad!**

 **Mandy, Your wait is over!This is a shameless one where I hurt Dean and have his boys pick up the pieces. As for last week? I thought you needed to meet his girl properly to feel his hurt here!**

 **Wwe21, No idea where the dog thing came from! Glad you liked what I did with your request and the timeframe too. Felt I had to do at least one story from that period when the boys were gone.**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Not sure I'm brave enough to write what happened on** _ **that**_ **day, this one is probably as close as I'll get. Glad you liked Miz and Maryse as dogs, weirdest (but most fitting) cameo ever!**

 **Shanynde, It's a nice thought, but sadly I've invested too many words/emotions into his girl being gone, so I don't think I could realistically bring her back now. Could write more flashbacks though?**

 **Minnie1015, I genuinely wasn't sure if I had gone too left field with that last one, but felt I finally had to introduce you all to her. Plus, I needed The Miz in at least** _ **one**_ **of my stories (somehow!)**

 **Irishfan62, I have a weird obsession with matching people to dog breeds (try it, fun game!) Ugh, I know, I was mean to put that line in, but come on, I need you guys to feel poor Dean's pain!**

 **Anne Carter, The idea of him as a little yapper just popped into my head and wouldn't go away. He's an ankle biter for sure though, right? Dean would be a mutt and Roman is just a big dog!**

 **Cherry619, As bittersweet as it was, I enjoyed doing one with** _ **her**_ **in it. Plus I loved portraying the Miz as a dog. Tempted to do a whole series of dog cameos, but know I wouldn't be able to top his!**

 **Normal service resumed now...classic hurt Dean coming your way!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Madhouse**

Roman hadn't liked their latest case from the get go, but the strange thing about it was he didn't know why. It had just felt somehow _wrong_ , like it was way too close to home for them and it had sent his protective older brothers instincts wild.

Not that he _ever_ liked when Dean went undercover since the need for it at all meant some kind of shit was going down. But in this case there was a strange sort of _undercurrent_ to it –

An uneasy atmosphere he couldn't put his finger on.

The main problem was that Dean had always been called crazy, stretching back to their days at the academy as well. There was something off-beat and sort of jerky about him and he tended to express the screwball thoughts in his head, even if they weren't particularly relevant or coherent or had nothing to do with what was already being said,

 _Hey uce, is a penguin more like a fish or a bird?_

Back before they had been best friends and brothers, Roman had reacted like pretty much all the rest and snorted at the weirdness or given it a wide berth.

Now though?

Well _now_ it was all just part of Dean and the thought of anyone bad mouthing his brother or laughing at his asides made him curl up his fists. Dean was unique and no _way_ would they change him –

But other people would have so maybe _that_ was the thing?

Maybe that was why Dean being undercover in an asylum as god damn _patient_ was rubbing his mood the wrong way and maybe it was why – when things started to go sideways – he responded with not just anger but _fear_ as well.

"Babe? Can you hear us?"

He stabbed at the microphone, in the process pushing Seth clean out of the way as the sounds of Dean struggling filtered over the speaker system and filled up the surveillance van with desperate little grunts.

" _Get the fuck off me_."

A chill shivered through him and clutched at his rapidly heaving chest.

Seth tried again,

"Dean? What's happening?"

But their only response was another angry shout and a note of something they weren't used to hearing since it sounded a little like genuine alarm, which Dean didn't tend to put across very often since he preferred to use sarcasm when shit hit the fan.

" _No, don't fuckin' do it – Roman_."

At the call of his name he was gone like a shot, positively blowing the back doors off their hinges and crossing the crunchy and frostbitten ground.

Seth fell out after him, calling,

"Hold up man."

But Roman couldn't have slowed down if he'd tried because Dean was in trouble and he needed to get there and put his hands on the people who were causing him harm.

 _The Woken Asylum for Mental Imbalances._

The sign loomed up large before them in the gloom along with the building itself sat behind it and tucked away from prying eyes behind a domineering stone wall. In terms of its structure it was pretty impressive having been built a hundred years back as a foundling children's home and maintaining all the architectural features of its era including round ornate turrets and narrowed windows as well. A fairytale castle in the middle of Suplex although what went on _inside_ was straight out of hell and down to the orders of the doctor in charge of it.

Matt Hardy –

A messed up desperado of a man, with hair that looked like he'd been siphoning voltage and wide wild eyes that never seemed to blink but who also possessed a certain charisma that had made him the medical darling of the state.

People – it was claimed – who entered the asylum re-emerged again recovered and back to their former selves, which included those previously too far gone or suicidal. A miracle some folks were calling it only that wasn't _all_ that went on there, because for every person they put back on their feet again there were at last another five who seemed to get _worse_ , or others still who went in for minor therapy and then suspiciously deteriorated until they were forcibly locked up. Of course for all _these_ people Doctor Hardy had the answer which noticeably came complete with a thousand dollar a month room. The more loco in-patients he had, the more money he _also_ had and the correlations between them were simply too much to ignore.

In fact Stephanie had been pretty blunt on the matter, as she'd slapped down the case files,

" _Bring me the dirt on this guy."_

Or in other words the authorities knew something was shady but had needed a team to scope out how and why. They had needed a group with an undercover expert. They had needed The Shield and they had _especially_ needed Dean.

Roman's feet pounded hard up the driveway, his gun in his hand,

 _We're coming uce, hold on._

By the time Seth managed to catch up to his striding they were already halfway across the ornamental lawn which created a general air of tranquillity that they both knew by now was a total crock of shit.

There was nothing calming there.

The place was cruel and vindictive –

As Dean's hidden earpiece had shown up only too well during a twelve day stint that had seen him half battered with a barrage of therapy that would have driven a sane man mad. Any loose thread of Dean's past had been poked at like a cat trying to unravel a tightly wound ball of wool and as a result they had talked about his childhood and his parents and his addictions.

All made up of course.

In fact they didn't even know that Dean was his real name since he had given them an alias right from the off, using the tried and tested _Jon Moxley_ that had seen him through several tight spots before and which therefore insulated him a little.

But only a little.

Some of it was real.

Some of what Dean was telling the doctors – with their questions and their judgements and their scratchy little pens – was based on what he had been through in his own life, which Seth and Roman knew because they knew _him_. He didn't given them much but just enough to be hurtful although Dean took the whole damn thing like a champ and for the most part pretended he wasn't remotely bothered when he had spoken to his brothers from the safety of his room.

" _It's fine, it's all just made up or whatever_."

Seth had hummed across the earpiece,

" _You sure man_?"

" _I've had to live with that shit for years, I can handle, as long as they don't find out about_ – ,"

Her.

He hadn't even needed to say it and they had still both instinctively known who he'd meant. The one thing that he simply couldn't face up to having happened –

Having lost the great love of his life.

With all the other stuff – like his uber crappy childhood and disinterested parents – he could cope pretty well but touching on _her_ would have been akin to self-destruction and his Jon Moxley character would have instantly gone to hell.

When it came to _her_ it was like drawing down the shutters which was hardly surprising.

That was simply how he'd coped.

When _it_ had happened both his brothers had been absent and so the grief and destruction had been handled alone. Sometimes Roman wasn't even sure how Dean had done it but figured that a lot of it had simply been pushed down, repressed and buried which wasn't very healthy but what else could he have done when he'd had no one to cry _on_? It was a thought that still troubled Roman with regularity and each time it did the guilt would eat him whole because although they were past their long period of _no contact_ the thought of Dean abandoned was still hard to chalk up and he was keen to atone whenever and wherever.

Dean might have been a scrapper but he was no longer on his own.

The big double doors had been locked for the evening to stop the helpless inmates from wandering off, which on the face of it made sense from a medical perspective but more unsettlingly from a _criminal_ aspect as well.

Not that it stopped Roman who thundered into them bodily, with the noise almost exploding across the crisp winter night.

Seth barked crossly,

"Take it easy man."

He made a good point –

Roman was no good to Dean with his shoulder out besides which the cacophonous jolt had been fierce enough that someone opened the door up regardless and the tentative face of a staff member peeked out,

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

Seth's hand hit Roman's pocket and pulled loose the old detective shield hidden within. Probably it was good that Seth was there with him since Roman's first instinct would have been simply to barrel in, which more than likely would have caused a commotion and further held them up from getting to Dean.

 _Dean_.

What the hell were they even about to do to him that had resulted in him calling for his brother like he had? Plus which the attack had seemingly come from nowhere and thrown them all collectively onto the back foot. One minute Dean had been sitting in his assigned room filling them in over the hidden microphone and the next Doctor Hardy and of his several orderlies had burst in on him and without explanation dragged him off.

From there it had been a bunch of swearing and struggling –

Then the yell.

 _Roman_.

What in the world was going down?

Seth cleared his throat and then stepped towards the entrance attempting to sound a whole lot calmer than he felt since the Big Dog was not the only member of their teaming that cared like mad for their scruffy copper blonde.

"Ma'am, we need to step inside for a moment."

"What's this about?"

"Police business."

She blinked back and for a moment it seemed like she was going to deny them but then she blew a sigh out and opened the door up,

"If you could just wait here while I – ,"

Roman brushed past her and was halfway across the floor tiles before she could even round the sentence out and she frowned in bewilderment and went to call after him only Seth got there first,

"Where's Doctor Hardy ma'am?"

"I don't – ,"

"We need to find him, could be a matter of life or death here."

Which wasn't a lie by any stretch of the imagination but managed to avoid who the potential victim was while at the _same_ time implying that it was likely the clinician, or at least the baffled staff member seemed to think it was based on her worried little gasp of a reaction and the sudden dramatic widening of her spectacle covered eyes,

"He – he's in the _fixing room_."

Roman's body shuddered because whatever the hell _that_ was it didn't sound good. _Fixing_ was something that was done to a vehicle or perhaps a leaky faucet or a bird infested roof, it was not a description that was generally used for people –

It was too cold and detached.

He growled at her,

"Where?"

"Up on the second floor, at the end of the hallway."

Seth blitzed past her like a blur,

"Come on."

Anticipating trouble he already had his gun out and on seeing it emerge the woman genuinely _gulped_ although whatever else she did was lost around the corridor as the teammates tore breathlessly across the patterned floor, the rubber of their boot soles squeaking on the tile tops and drowning out the air conditioning's continual mournful drone.

They knew where they were going – or at least _sort of_ – based on Dean's twelve day stint snooping around and a blueprint they had managed to blackmail from the developers employed by Doctor Hardy back when he had revamped the joint. The _Fixing Room_ was certainly not a name that had come up before but the general layout of the second floor had, along with the stairwell which they used to get up there, not trusting the elevator not to get jammed.

In terms of its décor the ground floor was the show piece, with comfortable lounges to impress visiting folks, craft filled art studios, a kitchen and solarium and even a bright and sunny looking garden room. Upstairs however was where the clinical feeling swept in and where the cheerful flock wallpaper turned sharply to plain paint. Gone were the paintings and wall sconces and fresh flowers. Instead every last damn thing was white, from the walls to the doors and even down to the linoleum which stretched out beyond them like an otherworldly path and squeaked even worse than the god forsaken floor tiles as they charged across it towards the far end.

On all sides around them were thick doors with windows which revealed single beds and helpless patients trapped inside, whose families probably thought they were cared for and settled and yet were one by one were slowly being driven mad.

Seth hissed from beside him,

"Where the hell is it?"

Because none of the doors there were the one where Dean was and for a horrible second Roman thought that they had missed it until they spun around the corner and – _bam_ – there it was.

 _The Fixing Room_.

It was set back away from all of the other doors and didn't have a window for them to see what was up but what it _did_ have was rivets and a bolt on the outside like it was where they locked the god damn federal _reserves_ up and which gave off such a powerful _keep the hell out_ vibe that the breath caught uncomfortably midway down Roman's throat.

Dean was in there.

Seth paused,

"You ready big man?"

Roman drew his gun out,

"Let's go get our uce."

Turning the handle Seth burst through across the threshold, his firearm raised at head height and his voice a sharp bark,

"Hands up, put 'em up."

A face spun towards them but it wasn't the one they were desperate to see and as Roman looked around and drank in the tableau he became suddenly aware of the reason as to why.

They were stood in a room not much bigger than a jail cell but totally devoid of any natural light and completely padded from the floor to the ceiling in a spongy sort of foam that mildly bounced beneath their feet. The man in front of them was Doctor Matt Hardy, who instantly looked startled at having been joined but was also pulsating with a weird sort of energy like the policemen had burst in on a séance or a cult. In fact the doctor was actually _grinning_ with his teeth on full display in a wild maniac laugh which ricocheted right up into his eyes which were bright and unblinking –

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was the figure that was slumped in the corner and scrabbling his bare feet, trying hard to get out, wrapped up tight in a belted straitjacket and shaking his head with frightened whimpering sounds.

Roman's heart flipped,

"Uce?"

Seth was more explicit and stepped towards the doctor pointing the gun barrel right between the man's eyes.

"What did you do to him?"

Hardy tipped his head sideways,

"I am allowing him to experience his real emotions so he can deal with his demons."

"That's not what I asked – what the _fuck_ have you given him asshole?"

Hardy laughed again and Dean let out a yelp, his whole body jolting like he was being hit with something and his blue orbs wide open but not taking them in. Wherever the hell he was, he certainly wasn't present and was instead someplace dark that clearly frightened him like mad.

Roman licked his lips,

"Babe?"

His answer was a tremor and then a frantic head shake,

"No, _n-no_."

The terrified word wasn't shouted out their way but instead towards the blank far wall and with more wild scrabbling as Dean pushed himself backwards and away from the vision that was scaring him to death.

Hardy didn't blink,

"I am freeing him from bondage."

Seth pulled some cuffs from his belt,

"Shut up man."

"He cannot become something better than he used to be if he can't delete – ,"

"I _said_ shut the hell up."

He tossed the restraints over and then glared for a second before waving his gun in sharp encouragement to put them on, to which the doctor replied with a patented chuckle before stooping to collect them,

"You men think you've won?"

Somewhere in the background Dean shuddered a breath in and his eyes widened to where they could have feasibly fallen out. There were tears across them too sort of _brimming_ along the lid line and Roman growled –

 _Won_?

How could _any_ of them have won?

As the physician snapped the cuffs on the _click_ sound released him and Roman surged across the tiny padded room, arriving in the corner where their brother was propped up and falling to his knees as he tucked away the gun,

"Babe? Can you hear me?"

He put a broad hand out and used it to cup the younger man's face, wrapping it groundingly just beneath the jawline and then rubbing his fingers across the back of the neck.

Dean whimpered gruffly,

"Don' wanna see it."

"See what uce?"

But the answer didn't come out and instead the copper blonde bangs flew around wildly as he suddenly began struggling and shaking his head, fighting the folds of the unforgiving jacket and dragging in deep and panicky breaths.

Roman reached across,

"Easy babe, easy."

Catching the collar he dragged the other man down, pulling the body until it was pressed up against him almost chest to chest so he could get at the straps. Dean continued fighting not knowing who was holding him and every last whimper damn near broke Roman's heart.

"Don' wanna see, don' make me see it, lemme out, gotta get out."

His feet scrabbled trying to find traction on the padding but Roman held him firm,

" _Sssh_ , I'm getting you out."

Somewhere beyond them the clinician sort of chuckled, the grin still spread in a leer across his face. The face that Roman would have put a god damn _fist_ through he had not been busy trying to work Dean's buckles loose.

"He'll thank me when it's done. When this is all over, he's gonna be something _better_ than before."

Roman snorted.

What a crock of shit _tha_ t was.

Dean was already damn near perfect the way he was and as the issue of people wanting to change him rose up again, the bigger man blew out a deep rumbling tone, which was timed to perfection with Seth grabbing the doctor and then hauling him from the _Fixing Room_ with purpose,

"Come on."

For a second Roman listened to them clattering down the corridor and then he heard the screech of a lock and almost instantly he knew what the younger man was up to –

They didn't just call him _The Architect_ for kicks.

What Seth was doing was bolting the clinician into one of the tiny barren cell-like rooms and then walking away and leaving him helpless the same way _he_ had done to everyone else. In a messed up way it was even quite poetic –

Locked up in his own prison.

Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

Although that was only one _half_ of their problem since the bigger one was still wildly struggling in his bonds with his poor heart pounding like mad against his ribcage and moving so hard Roman could _feel_ it through his shirt, along with the sweat that was pooling from Dean's forehead and mixing with the tears on the near _roasted_ cheeks.

It reminded him vaguely of when his children had nightmares and woke up with their poor little faces slick and red, still struggling to determine real life from the dream world and reeling from bewilderment not to mention swirling fear.

"Don' wanna see."

Dean was borderline crying which was something that Roman had never seen from him before and it made his fingers sort of _tremble_ in empathy as he undid the tight straitjacket buckles one by one.

Seth slid back in,

"Hey, how's he doing?"

Roman shook his head and fought the anger down,

"Not good."

In real terms it probably didn't need saying since their scruffier brother was murmuring fit to burst, not to mention thrashing and shaking like a wild thing little realizing the hands on him would never cause him any harm. Seth dropped down onto his haunches beside them and instantly began to search around Dean's neck, wincing whenever their teammate tried to buck at it and then stopping suddenly and cursing,

"Shit."

He was pointing to a spot right over the artery and tucked up close to the sweat slickened jaw, where a tiny puncture wound sat _bullseyed_ and puffy and telling them both he'd been injected while held down. Roman grit his teeth so hard they almost shattered and then continued to work the tight straps loose, since it was the only way he could think to keep himself busy that didn't involve throwing his fists at the wall, although given that they was padded it wasn't likely to hurt much. It wouldn't help Dean a whole lot though.

"Don' wanna see."

Seth frowned,

"What does _that_ mean?"

Roman shook his head and was about to respond when their brother finally tossed out another tiny sentence that chilled them to the bone,

"No – not _her_."

"God damn."

It seemed obvious.

The thing that Dean was faced with and was fighting his hardest to not to have to see was _her_. Which would have been weird were it not for the tear trails which gave them their timeframe.

He was reliving her death.

Vividly too based on his reaction and worse still was that the drugs made him think that it was _real_ , made him think that it was the first time it had happened and track through the same horrible emotions as well.

"Fuck _no_ – ,"

" _Sssh_ , hey, it's okay man."

Seth reached over and palmed back his hair, looking completely and utterly grief stricken but sort of lost too in not knowing how to help.

Roman's fingers unravelled the final buckle and he hurriedly pulled the straitjacket loose, unwinding Dean's arms and then ripping the thing off him before throwing it with lashings of distaste across the room. He had assumed it would help but sadly it didn't because instead Dean was free to fight them even more, which included lashing out like he could beat the bad news back or scream loud enough that it might up and run away.

"No, not her, not her – she's _everythin_ '."

Roman's eyes began filling,

"Uce – ,"

Dean broke,

"She's all I've got."

 _God damn it._

Roman blinked right up at the ceiling and then hauled his brother in as close as he could get, trapping the swinging arms so that his best friend couldn't hurt himself and then placing his lips to the tangled mess of hair,

"It's okay, it's okay."

It was one of those sentences that people said on instinct – since the whole messed up scene was very _not okay –_ and was designed to comfort more than be truthful because what the hell else was he even meant to say?

 _It isn't real?_

Well it was to their teammate, who was shaking like a leaf and emotional as hell which wasn't a surprise since his entire world was crumbling –

Or at least the world he _thought_ he still had.

Seth moved closer and swept arms tight around them – _both_ of them – with Dean's back pressed up against his front and his face pillowed down against their battered brother's shoulders and blowing warm breath across the stubble at his nape.

Slowly the fighting and the thrashing bled out of him but the desolation didn't and continued to rumble on,

"There's nobody else – ,"

Seth shook his head,

"You got us man, we're here now."

"There's nobody else."

Which was certainly true enough when it had happened and made Roman bite back another angry breath, once again wanting to put his fist through something but kind of stuck on that front because the something was _him_ –

The asshole who had packed up and left without telling him and then remained out of touch when Dean's whole world had been blown, blaming the misstep of friendship on his marriage woes although really there no was damn excuse _whatsoever_ for having made him weather that first storm alone and being in the moment and seeing him breaking only underlined that gut wrenching fact to him hard.

He pulled Dean closer,

"We're with you, we gotcha."

"Roman's gone – ,"

"No uce, not anymore, I'm right here."

Dean's choked up face felt like a damn furnace and he was gasping and grumbling and fully _crying_ all at once in a cavalcade of complex and bitter emotions some of which they didn't even know he had _possessed_ and possibly didn't when not drugged up to the eyeballs.

Seth rubbed his arms,

"You're gonna be okay."

Roman blinked mildly.

 _You_ are going to be okay –

Not _it_ but _you_ which was far better phrasing and trust their youngest but most passionate brother to have figured out the more fitting sentence to say.

With Dean's head tucked in beneath his chin protectively Roman could look across the top of his scruff and judging from the expression painting Seth's features their third man was going through similar emotions to his own –

The whole rollercoaster ride of guilt and broken heartedness from seeing the grief that had happened eighteen months ago being repeated before their eyes in real time and evidently just as bitterly as it had been, with no expense spared and in technicolour as well.

Still, in a really messed up way it was a good thing – or, well, maybe not _good_ as such but a _chance_ for them at least – because even though they were too late to make it better in the true sense, this time they were both undoubtedly _there_ and so Roman drew his arms even tighter around their middle brother and murmured soothingly against his wild curls,

"You're going to be okay uce,we're not going anywhere, you hear me?"

Seth echoed him,

"We're not leaving you man."

Hands balled up tighter in Roman's stretched out shirt front and although he still didn't think for a moment that Dean had a clue who they were or where he was, the sentiments at least seemed to _partly_ filter through to him because the shuddering breaths were replaced by a jerkiness and then undeniable – albeit silent – sobs.

 _Shit_.

Seth looked up in measures of horror, clearly of the opinion that they had somehow made things worse but to Roman the bawling was a _positive_ next step because for what was quite possibly the first time ever, Dean was actually letting it _out_. He was confronting the sheer desolation of what had happened and reacting like any normal person would have done, which he _could_ do finally since he had people to cry on and wrap their arms around him and give him comfort and love. It might have been eighteen months too late to make a difference back in the real and non-drugged world, but in the moment it was what all three of them needed and so they sat in an unmoving, unflinching tableau until their poor confused brother was completely cried out.

Roman continued to stroke his hair dog-like,

"You're alright uce, you're going to be alright."

Because that was the one thing he was absolutely sure of –

That whatever else happened, Dean was going to be fine and Roman knew it because he and Seth would damn well _make_ it that way, regardless if their brother remembered afterwards or not. He hadn't been lying when he said he wasn't leaving.

He couldn't have been torn away by wild dogs.

Back when he had left to work things out with his family, he had convinced himself it was the best route for all of them and he frankly hadn't wanted to go through the process of explaining things to Dean and seeing him so hurt. In his messed up state of mind skipping out had been easiest and he had thought that he would be able to make his own life. But things had just never really _clicked_ down in Florida and he had missed not just the city but his younger brother too. He loved his children and he would always love their mother but there was a bond with his teammates for which there simply weren't words.

A deep and instinctive fire forged kinship that ran through his veins almost thicker than blood.

He was his best self when he was working alongside them or with them in the general sense of word. Selfish perhaps, given his kids were half a world away but in doing his job he was providing for them and leaving a legacy he hoped they would be proud of.

Not forgetting the two uncles they already loved.

As Dean's body shuddered with a ripple of emotion – which were getting less frequent as the surge of drugs wore off – Roman pulled him in against his chest even tighter and then looked up with a deep breath, his eyes finding Seth.

There was a comfortable expression on the younger man's features.

The three of them –

Right where they were always meant to be.

"We gotcha babe, me and him, we gotcha."

Dean's body juddered and then was dragged down by sleep.

* * *

 **Figured that it was probably about time that Dean got to really, properly grieve and lean on his brothers while he bawled his eyes out. He needed some catharsis poor boy!**

 **Next week, the guys are on a job out of the city and someone seems to be gunning for Seth!**


	12. Grudge Match

**Ready for a totally unexpected cameo in this one? Yes? Good! Also an added three person, unnamed cameo, but I bet you can guess who they are!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Matt just fit so well and I've been watching him since I was eleven, so I had to fit him in somewhere! It is definitely time for Dean to start moving forwards. Slowly perhaps, but moving forward nonetheless!**

 **Mandy, Bottling up emotions is never very healthy, so it long overdue for poor old Dean and the guys at least got to be there to help him this time. That last one was loving brother vibes all the way!**

 **Wwe21, Well whoever you think is after Seth in this one...it isn't who you think! Also, one of your previous suggestions returns again next week for another stint, so stay tuned for a snippet of that at the end!**

 **Minnie1015, Well the goodness is I wrote a couple more of these (my muse woke up again) I've got an idea for another full length Shield too, it's just finding the time! Glad you're still loving them! I'm here to please!**

 **Skovko, You know what? I did put Brother Nero in but just couldn't make him fit properly. It all got too crazy and weird and so it just seemed to flow better without him *guilty face* oops, sorry Jeff!**

 **Irishfan62, Well, you wouldn't be the first to call for a bit of Jeff in that last one and I promise I did try to put him in there, but suddenly the whole thing because really psychedelic so he had to go again! He was there in spirit!**

 **Cherry619, That has to be the saddest one I've written, but I just couldn't resist it. Dean needed the chance to cry her out and the boys needed the chance to be there for him. I'm not so meant to him this week, promise!**

 **Kirrak, I'm so glad you enjoyed it, I just had a sudden yen to write sad Dean (plus lashings of super protective Roman) This week we have protective Dean for a slight variation on our usual theme!**

 **Rebel8954, Yeah, Dean kind of fell apart there, but maybe the drug means he won't remember it? Oooh, I'm so glad I encouraged you to get back into the swing! Happy to take full responsibility! Must check them out!**

 **Okay, obscure cameo here we go!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Grudge Match**

On the spectrum of great and good ideas, the one they were embroiled in ranked pretty low. As in scraping the bottom with other genius suggestions such as surfing between two cars or lighting your groin on fire for fun. Both of which Dean had only done when he was younger and pretty damn wasted but had tried nonetheless, which made him by proxy a pretty reasonable barometer for what constituted a very bad plan –

Such as training up a ragtag small county police force to take a hardened bunch of criminals down. Which was what they had been doing for six long weeks in total and which was _also_ starting to slowly drive him mad.

Thanks to their once again functioning brotherhood, drug supplies to the city had been essentially cut in half and many of the former kingpins and pushers were either on the run, out of business or unhappily behind bars. Streets were safer, neighborhoods were nicer and the powers that be were all smiling as well and glowing in the bask of having turned around the city without ever once referring to the secret force that had.

 _Them._

Dean blew a breath out –

Story of his life though.

He did a good thing but couldn't revel in the fact and instead had to watch his hard work being claimed by others and waved like a banner above another person's head. Although the person in his case was their pugnacious mayor whose precious only daughter also happened to be their boss and both of whom functioned very vaguely like a family which made it impossible to kick off too much.

Besides, like mice or roaches or a _virus_ the cessation of drugs had never been set to last and sure enough within a month of cutting the head off another slightly smaller but just as ugly one grew back and started pumping pills in through new channels –

Which once again was _their_ job to seek and destroy.

A week or two of light undercover work and probing every contact and avenue known to man had revealed that the new supplies were coming in from up river and in particular a small and very yokel backwoods town. The sort of place that turned up a collective nose at the _big city_ and considered anything outside of their own locale as strange. They had a police force of sorts but it was definitely minimal and wasn't too keen on helping strangers out. Which essentially meant they had more attachment to the dealers – who were all local fellers – than the marauding three man force.

Vince however had been adamant about their action plan,

"You take the local cops and hit the drugs right at their source."

Dean had barked across the speakerphone,

"You shittin' me?"

His brothers had both winced –

 _Shitting people_ was not his style.

In fact shitting in general was probably beyond him since their mayor was more likely to be a pod person than a man and which therefore meant he didn't need a bathroom since he simply shed his fleshy human skin every night.

"That's the job son, now are you going to take it?"

They would never have realistically turned the man down and so that had been them stuck for weeks in Gorilla County building up their intel and trying to rally the police, whose resistance to the newcomers and their bossy city tendencies had not so much mellowed as seemingly increased.

Nor was that their most pressing problem either –

Someone had been sending threatening missives to Seth.

On the face of it the messages were nothing too ominous and they certainly didn't promise any imminent death but from the moment the first one had been slid beneath the door frame of his room at the hotel they had been on full alert and remembering Seth's face made Dean even hotter.

 _Fuck._

The younger man had looked borderline scared.

Well – alright – not _scared_ exactly because that wasn't something that Seth really did, but he had certainly looked pretty antsy and uncomfortable as he had started at the scrawl with his unblinking brown eyes.

 _Traitor._

The word had been written in red ballpoint and not so much drawn as sort of scribbled out, with the author of the note having traced the letters over until he had almost punched a hole clean through the printed lines.

Seth had swallowed,

"Why would it say that?"

But that wasn't the question.

They all knew why and what was more they could all remember the moment several years earlier when Seth had turned his back, or perhaps more accurately when Dean had turned _his_ back and been greeted with a chair in an unprovoked attack.

No.

What Seth meant was how _could_ it say that considering certain parts had been kept from the press. Including the name of the turncoat officer who had stolen vital evidence and then been locked up. People knew it had happened undoubtedly, but their real identities had never been disclosed and so in essence the whole thing was still sort of a secret and in the end the press attention had been poor Steph's cross to bear –

Well, her husband _had_ been the ringleader so in a way it made sense on the face of it they guessed. But none of that had helped them or answered Seth's question of how someone could have targeted him since no one should have known and especially not in some crappy little township where the three of them were strangers.

It was a quandary for sure.

Roman had blown a breath out,

"Perhaps it wasn't for you?"

But another note the next day had seemed to make things damn sure and was made even worse for its being more expansive with a comma and everything –

 _We don't want traitors here, go home_.

"Still don't think it's meant for me now?"

Seth had been pale-faced but typically snide although they knew him well enough to know that he'd been unsettled as hell and not to mention outright embarrassed which almost seemed worse than him being just worried, because how many times did he have to make amends? How many times would his having been vulnerable while his family were threatened be thrown back in his face? The younger man had done everything humanly possible to atone for the night he had picked up that chair and frankly after having saved their asses a whole _bunch_ of times and having fretted and fussed over them and after having gone to _jail_ Seth had more than served his time in the dog house.

Besides, who in the hell could have been more pissed at him than Dean?

"Think it's one of the cops at the station?"

Roman had been the one to voice the rational thought and Seth had blown a breath out and sat down heavily, bouncing a little on the foot of the bed,

"I guess so, maybe they've got contacts in Suplex who remembered what happened when – ,"

He hadn't said the rest and in response Dean had stomped from the room with sudden purpose which had stopped their conversation and made his teammates both blink.

"Dean?"

It had been clear from the tone of Seth's question that he instantly thought he had said the wrong thing and that bringing up the night that he had put him in the hospital had pissed his teammate off. But that wasn't the case and not two minutes later Dean had returned with his belongings which he had haphazardly stuffed back into his bag and which essentially burst across the floor as he dropped it and then spread his hands wide,

"Honey, I'm home."

Seth had blinked,

"Uh, what the hell does that mean?"

"It means that while we're here, I'm roomin' with your ass."

It was a point on which he had then made implicit by flopping down onto the couch and propping both his legs up, in a tried and tested _I'm not going anywhere_ which had made his younger brother swiftly move to protest before stopping and deciding to roll his eyes wryly like he was borderline frustrated and not completely relieved instead.

"Fine."

He hadn't said it would make him feel better but then again he hadn't _had_ to say that, because it was what best friends were for without question and also made his brothers feel better about _his_ ass.

It seemed to work too since the notes stopped the next day –

Although they then turned up at the station instead.

 _Traitor._

 _Backstabber._

 _Convict._

 _Coward._

All them aimed like a knife at Seth's gut and no longer just random but from one of the local officers since they found them on Seth's desk or pinned against their office door.

"Fuckers."

On the third occasion Dean had been ferocious and had ripped the paper up and then whipped the ruins across the room, while Roman had clenched his fists and glowered darkly before turning on his heels,

"I'm finding out who this is."

Seth had stopped him,

"Easy there big guy, this isn't a huge deal."

Dean had frowned,

"The fuck it _isn't_."

"These guys just don't like us bossing them around, alright?"

Roman had gazed back,

"Are you defending them?"

"Yes."

Frankly Dean had been just as bewildered which he had expressed with his unique brand of eloquence,

"Are you fuckin' _nuts_?"

Seth had rolled his eyes,

"Look, we've got a job to do here and this shit is not gonna stop that alright?"

"Yeah but – ,"

"No buts, I don't need you causing trouble so just simmer down and let's do what we came for."

That was that.

Only it wasn't because they still had to train up the station which included the guy who was sending the threats and who honestly could have been any damn one of them, sitting and smirking without them knowing who he was. Some days when they were there passing on tips about their intel or organizing surveillance rotas Dean had wanted to scream, or charge through the rows and rattle each man bodily until the asshole who was baiting them had broken down and confessed.

Then there was the lingering question of knowing.

How had they found out about what had happened three years back?

It was a question that he had put to Roman one evening when Seth was on the phone to Vince, updating him on their positive progress on the case if not the whole _secret_ _threat_ thing.

"Think this guy has got a police buddy in Suplex?"

Roman had stabbed a green bean,

"Figure he's gotta have, don't see any other way he's finding our past out."

Dean had grumbled,

"Bastard."

"You gonna scope him out?"

The suggestion had come as a sort of surprise to him although with the beauty of hindsight it made perfect sense, although his response at the time had been short and uncertain as his best friend had eyed him steadily.

Dean had blinked at him,

"What?"

"Well, you are our undercover expert, thought finding this guy might be your sorta thing."

Which it so fucking was that Dean had almost slapped his forehead,

"You want me to charm this asshole out?"

As Seth had hung up and headed back towards their table, Roman had shrugged and given him a wink, throwing in a tiny little grin for good measure and rumbling out a sentence,

"Whatever you think."

Although as it turned out getting any information in a place where they were hated wasn't much fucking fun and it took Dean three days of hanging around the break room before he could even get someone to _grunt_ at him.

Step one.

The way he figured it, the first part of the process was making the backwoods cops see him more as one of them, which meant generally talking up the beauty of the area and being down on the taskforce that had landed him there.

"M' tellin' y' fellers there's somethin' about the air here – makes me feel all good and _healthy_ y' know?"

Or –

"This is the life, no traffic, no yellin' – a guy could get used to the great outdoors."

To begin with it had pretty much made him seem a lunatic and the officers close by had simply given him a wide berth, but sentence by sentence they had started to ease up a bit until a couple of them had even sort of vaguely befriended him. The older guys mostly but it was a foot in the doorway and his cordiality with them had made the others mellow too, or some of them anyway since there were more who weren't flinching –

As he found out two days later to important effect.

He had been sauntering through the little police station – having stepped from the broom closet the local sergeant had gifted them – heading to collect another round of coffees after the twelve hour all-nighter he and his brothers had put in. Early on they had decided that the harder they worked on it and the more they invested then the sooner they could get out, which had meant many nights grabbing sleep in their desk chairs with their surveillance equipment providing props for their feet. Not great by any means but far preferable to staying and watching the fucking long ass seasons shifting through. Which was why strong hot coffee had been an hourly necessity and why that run in particular was his long overdue turn.

"Come on caffeine."

His voice as was a gruff sounding grumble and briefly blotted out the hushed up voices by the door although something about their urgency caught him abruptly and then made him freeze,

"Broke his skull with a _chair_?"

"Uh huh, put him right in the hospital – his own teammate."

Dean's blood chilled instantly.

 _Oh holy hell._

"How can they even stand to work with the feller?"

"Especially the one who took the blow to the head."

"That guy Ambrose?"

"No wonder he's wacky."

Dean's fingers quickly clenched and then crushed a coffee cup and he set his jaw firmly in a way that meant business as his blue eyes hardened.

Okay, then.

 _Fuck_.

"Either way, I'm not doing a thing he tells me."

"Rollins you mean?"

Somebody snorted,

"Damn straight. Once a traitor always a traitor. I mean, how do we know that he won't turn on _us_?"

 _Assholes_.

Dean flinched visibly and the use of the word _traitor_ made his blood pump because surely it had to be the guy? The person that had made Seth quieter than he should have been and the reason that their brother looked behind him so much. Some jackass with a grudge who didn't fucking know him but thought they were clever for making him sweat it out.

"Makes me sick to think of him giving us orders."

"So maybe he meets with an accident out here?"

The suggestion was followed with an actual chuckle as the final smug sentence rose with a grin and the coffee brimmed clean over as Dean burst around the doorframe like a whirling tornado and just as chaotic, his fingers finding out the shirt of the speaker and then slamming him backwards hard into the wall.

"The fuck did you just say?"

His eyes were fully wild and his mood not much steadier and in response to his ire and furious arrival the gossiping cops almost instantly shut up.

They were three guys that Dean had seen before around the station and who had occasionally sat in on their briefings and run-downs, sitting at the back like a trio of god damn _teenagers_ and nudging one another or looking bored at what was said. The youngest one alone could have possibly been likeable since he had a sort of chirpy and inherent natural pep but his buddies were like a cancerous tumor who frankly it would have been far better and possibly kinder to laser off.

For example there was the thin one with a tiny fluff of beard growth which sprouted across his chin like a fuzzy looking worm and who wore his braided hair tied back in a ponytail tail and whose soul purpose in the group was to incite the others on. In real terms he was undoubtedly the oldest of all three of them but didn't much act like the protector of the group. Instead that had fallen to their short but bulky third man who had a close cropped buzz cut and a _water_ _freezing_ stare.

It was the second of these men – the thinnest and eldest – whom Dean had slammed up bodily against the wall and although it caused a moment of bewilderment, it hadn't take long for his associates to step up.

"Hey man, hey."

It was the youngest man who spoke first, holding his hands up like he was talking down a bear and possibly noting that in terms of career prospects it wasn't a good idea to go bowling straight in.

Dean growled again,

"What the fuck did I just hear from you?"

"Nothin – ,"

"Fuckin' _bullshit_."

A paw had landed on his arm and swinging his head like a frothy jowled terrier delivered him right into the aforementioned glare.

"Put him down."

Their hulkster wasn't kidding but then on the flip side neither was Dean, who remained with his fingers cinched in tight around the collar flaps even as the sausage fingers grew tight across his skin,

"He just threatened a fellow police officer."

Which was only really _sort_ of true in that Seth was not a real cop any longer but instead a shadowy quietly hired enforcement man. But what _was_ true was that he worked directly for the commissioner alongside his brothers who were still men of the law and what was also true was that Dean didn't care for the specifics because someone had threatened Seth which meant that said _someone_ was going down.

The bigger man snorted,

"Your buddy isn't one of us."

Dean bristled noticeably,

"No he's not, because as long as we're here his ass is your _boss_ , we all are, y' hear me?"

He wasn't actually lying on that one.

Vince had made it very clear and had even written a letter on the issue which the station commander had read out to his men. Possibly it hadn't help smooth their arrival or particularly made them any special friends but it _had_ underlined that The Shield were in charge there and everybody else had to do what they said.

Beefcake stiffened,

"I don't take your orders."

Dean chose not to blink,

"Your station commander sure does, think he'll be happy 'bout what you've been doin'?"

All three of them faltered,

"What we've been – _huh_?"

It was the youngest who had spoken but each one pf them looked baffled with a genuine bewilderment which was hard to pull off and it made Dean falter just a little in response to it because honestly if they hadn't sent all the god damn messages then who in the name holy hell had?

"You haven't been writing all the shitty notes then?"

The wind of raw justice ebbed from his sails a little bit and then died a death rapidly and entirely as the men exchanged glances before shrugging in reply.

"What notes?"

 _Shit_.

Not the answer he had wanted although the bafflement at least had drawn the tension out, even though Dean had still had his fingers balled tightly against the collar of the unfortunate eldest man's throat.

"Where did you hear about Seth goin' loco?"

He wasn't prepared to use the word betrayal and fortunately, as it turned out, he didn't have to since the youngest of the trio stood in front of him frowning seemed to get it instantly,

"I heard it from him."

Unhelpfully he then pointed quickly at their big man who glared in reply seeming less happy to make amends. Raising a chunky digit he pointed at the pinned one and growled out the same warning he had already put forth,

"Let him go."

"An' if I do that you'll tell me?"

There was a short sort of falter and then a grudging nod,

"I will."

At once Dean's fingers unfurled from the material and allowed the thinnest man to slink away towards his friends. Dean sort of grimaced – still wanting to punch one of them for having even _thought_ about somehow hurting Seth – but the prospect of getting a name felt bigger and so instead he simply waited and then blew out a breath,

"Well?"

The bigger man shuffled a little but evidently alongside of being a total _ass clown_ he was also very much a boulder of honesty because he half turned to leave before throwing two words back,

"Chief Axel."

Dean blinked.

"What?"

How in the hell did _he_ know and more important why the fuck was he telling everyone?

Dean didn't know but he was sure as hell about to find out and so to that end he spun with all out flair on his boot heel and set off marching away back down the corridor, towards the blind shuttered office where the station commander was and cussing him out every step.

"Bastard, asshole – ,"

It drew a few glances but frankly he was too amped up to care much, since the stress of the messages and looking out for their brother and being away from home was starting to tell. Especially since in the year plus since he'd lost _her_ it was the longest he had ever been away from their home. Where he was surrounded by the comfort of her stuff and the cushions and clothes that still just smelt like her. The sooner they wrapped shit up there the better and tracking down Seth's tormentor was next part.

He burst in through the office door without knocking and launched straight into a grumbly tirade, pointing at the desk in a measure of anger and only slowly tailing off when he realized nobody was there.

"Where in the hell do you get off – uh – _damn it_."

Who was he supposed to shout at instead?

In very real terms the station commander was perfect fodder since he was none too bright, red faced and clearly promoted before his time which left him with a permanent look of displacement although none of his men much seemed to either care or mind.

Busy for busy sakes.

It could have been the guy's motto since whenever Dean had seen him he'd been doing nothing much, yet at the same time flapping so many bits of paper that the untrained eye might have thought him overworked. Not that he was a bad guy exactly and compared to his employees he was probably a decent cop, but he simply wasn't cut out to be a leader and nor could he keep a secret to save his damn life –

Not even an official fully confidential one.

Dean's fists screwed up tightly again.

 _Fuck._

Lying in the middle of the desk amongst the papers which quite patently hadn't been dealt with at all, there was a monthly planner with great scrawls across it and figuring that it might hint at where the man had got to, Dean rounded the room to take a look for himself.

 _Dinner with mom._

 _Abigail's birthday._

Clearly the station chief was a hella busy guy although annoyingly there was nothing at all noted for that day which meant that more than likely he had gone to take a shit. Dean thumped the desk with his fist in frustration and it knocked over a awkwardly propped photo frame which clattered down onto the woodwork loudly and made him roll his eyes,

"Piece of crap thing."

As he picked it up to put it back into place again his eyes swept over the image inside, which showed the commander in normal clothes grinning with his arm wrapped around an also smiling older guy. An older guy who suddenly seemed weirdly familiar, although briefly through his bafflement Dean couldn't work out why.

Then he could.

"Shit."

When it came it did with violence that jolted through his body like he'd been electro-shocked or had stood in a storm and been struck by lightning while a chorus of angels sang from above.

The grinning older guy was god damn _Hennig_ who had once upon a time controlled the evidence room and was the man who'd been in charge of place four years earlier when their team and life in general had all gone to hell.

Dean gaped.

What in the world had even happened to that guy? Either way the sheer coincidence seemed too great to ignore and a ball of adrenaline combined with sudden nausea lurched up and then dropped down into his gut.

 _Fuck._

Curtis Axel –

It was the _sheriff_ who had been sending the messages since they'd set foot in town and for all he knew was damn well _gunning_ for their brother and just looking for the right time to make his deadly move. Like maybe attempting to stove Seth's head in, or shoot him and then hide his bloodied body beneath the floor. Either way the various gruesome options weren't good ones and fired Dean up with a protective sort of yearn, which he knew from experience more than likely wouldn't settle until his brothers were stood in front of him.

Both of them.

Unharmed.

Turning for the door he exited it sprinting and almost collided with the pot plant outside, only just managing to vault it like an athlete before darting back up the way he had come.

Axel?

What was the connection and how he did he know Hennig when they didn't share the same name? Surely that was where he had gotten the information but then why send the notes? What in the hell was there to gain?

Rounding the corner brought him out into stairwell that led off towards the pint sized canteen, that comprised a single unimpressed looking woman with a ladle and a selection of limp looking subs. Still, it was only just better than going hungry and so tended to be where everyone corralled and as he clattered down the steps two at a time almost wildly, he caught sight of a close-cropped buzz job up ahead.

Curtis Axel.

Dean's blue eyes narrowed.

 _Got you fucker, make your move._

Although possibly as standard everything then went to hell again, or at least appeared to in his mind anyway as two familiar voices echoed up at him and bounced with a resonance off the white walls.

"I'm telling you man, I can't wait to get out of here."

"Not a country guy, huh?"

"Not anymore."

 _Damn_.

Dean's heart flipped over and then began to surge heavily.

Standing below them were Roman and Seth, who were sauntering towards the stairs with a decided lack of vigilance in the clear misunderstanding that they were both safe. Dean opened his mouth to shout a warning at them then stopped again as up ahead Axel seemed to pick up the pace, while at the same time letting his fingers drop towards his waistband where his gun holster was.

 _Fuck._

There was no time to waste.

If Dean hung around then his brothers might be slaughtered, gunned down in the hallway of a police building no less and halted in their prime while he stood there and watched it.

His jaw clenched tightly.

That was not going down.

Considering that he didn't have the time to draw his gun out, yell a quick warning _and_ take aim there was only one salient option left open and he took it, bellowing gruffly as he dived for his foe,

" _Axel_."

The other man spun around towards him and Dean saw the moment that his face kind of fell, crumpling up in confusion and then horror as the visiting detective hit him square in the gut, burying a shoulder blade into his stomach and then knocking them both _hard_ down the final few steps.

" _Oof_ – ,"

Axel yelped and then sort of whimpered as the treads of his shoes slid fully off the stairs and delivered him into mid-air with arms wheeling before gravity took hold and sucked him swiftly back down.

" _Dean_."

From where he was attached to Axel's waist eel-like, the Shield man registered but didn't respond to the yell and in fact didn't utter any sound beyond a grumble until the tandem fall was broken by the concrete floor.

 _Smack_.

"Fuck."

He landed fully on the commander and succeeded in emptying the other man's lungs, banging his kneecap hard in the process but still working on adrenaline so simply shaking it off.

"Dean, what the hell?"

Seth and Roman were blinking down at them, looking in equal measures bewildered and alarmed although their teammate still had one more priority.

He had to make sure their threat sender was disarmed.

Rolling himself onto his poor throbbing kneecap, Dean began to fumble at his foe's belt, flipping the other man onto his back roughly and patting him in the hopes of finding the gun. His blue eyes shone wildly with vindication at the touch of it and so he dove his hand in to pull the thing loose, gabbling away like he did when he was amped up and barely making sense,

"Thought you'd won this one, huh? Thought you could mess with one of _my_ brothers?"

Axel was squirming and breathless,

"Nuh – what?"

In the general confusion his teammates sprinted closer, evidently thinking that he'd finally gone mad, although as his finger closed over an item he grinned wildly and pulled it loose,

"Ah ha."

Everyone blinked.

He was holding an inhaler –

As in an actual genuine medicated asthmatic one.

 _Huh_?

Drawing to an uncertain standstill in front of them, Seth let loose a baffled sounding gasp, which was actually snapped just a touch like he was angry. Which was a fine way to thank him for saving his life. Or – well, okay – not _saving_ exactly unless Seth was unknowingly allergic to ventolin, but at least Dean's general intentions had been noble, on top of which there was still the whole _note sending_ thing.

"Dean, what the fuck are you doing?"

"He's crazy."

The latter two words were from Axel himself, who was wincing and generally grimacing beneath him but also looking just a tiny bit scared. Possibly because he had been jumped on like an antelope picking its way through the unrelenting bush, but also no doubt because he knew he had been rumbled, which Dean then decided to make abundantly clear,

"He's been writin' the messages."

Roman blinked at him, the brown eyes almost folding completely in on themselves,

"He _what_?"

"He knows old man Hennig from back at the precinct – got a photo of the two of 'em sittin' on his desk."

Shifting a little from Axel's squishy stomach, Dean got the first of a small rush of pain as the adrenaline wore off just enough to make things hurty at which point he began to regret very slightly his decision to spear tackle a man down the stairs.

Seth shook his head,

"Officer Hennig?"

Clearly he couldn't quite remember who that was, which wasn't surprising since they hadn't known him too well and hadn't even _thought_ about the old guy in years. In short it just wasn't a name he had expected, although it sounded like a snub and so Axel went wild,

"You mean you don't remember the guy you screwed over?"

He went to surge up and so Dean knelt on him again, pinning him down against the concrete in warning but struggling as the commander recovered his strength.

Seth paused,

"I – ,"

"He lost his job because of what you did – they kicked him out because he let _you_ in. "

There was a very brief moment where everyone sort of stared at him which fast became awkward since he was waiting for them to speak and so eventually Dean rolled his eyes in frustration and filled in the gaps,

"The evidence room clerk."

Seth's mouth opened o-shaped yet stayed briefly silent as instead a look of horror seemed to shiver across his face, which was then swiftly filled by a hot stabbing guiltiness that made him look small.

"Jesus I – I'm sorry man."

" _Sorry_?"

As Axel squirmed underneath him, Dean lost his balance and ungracefully slithered off, which allowed the backwoods officer to clamber upwards, holding his spine gingerly where it had taken the bang.

Good.

Sensing the growing tension, Roman stepped in closer, effectively blocking Axel's trajectory to Seth, but at the same time allowing his younger brother to keep a visual since they could all tell there was far more that needed to be said.

"Sorry? You think that's going to fix things? He _trusted_ you and you damn well let him down."

Seth bit his lip and then went to answer, only Dean beat him to it as he stumbled upright with a wince,

"Big fuckin' deal. Go cry me a river. He broke my _skull_ asshole but look at us now, alright? All fine."

In all honesty he was saying it for Seth as much as anyone, because there was never a bad moment to reiterate that line, besides which he knew it was still something his brother thought about and the reassurance helped him –

Or at least Dean hoped it did.

Axel glared at him,

"Did you get an apology? Because that's sure as hell something my old man never got."

 _My old man_.

So Hennig was his father? Another twist Dean hadn't seen coming at all. Although the closer he looked the more he sort of got it. In the mouth for the most part or maybe vaguely around the nose. Again the sheriff stepped closer and again their own Big Dog very pointedly closed the gap, positively blowing steam out of his nostrils because _there_ was the guy that had caused them all the grief and made it so that Seth had been forced to have a roommate just so that the three of them could feel like he was safe.

His voice was a grumble,

"Big mistake Axel. You like fear, huh? Well let me give you a little taste."

As he spoke he was cracking his knuckles and Dean smirked a little at what he knew would happen next, although sadly it was stopped before it even got started as Seth shunted him back and then patted him lightly on the chest,

"Easy big guy, we don't want any of that now."

Dean grunted.

They didn't?

He sure as fuck did.

Somewhere behind them the lunch room doors swung open and a couple of chattering cops wandered out, sauntering past them and then nodding at their chieftain as the angry scene tableaued for a second and paused.

 _Three, two, one_.

The interlopers casually strolled off up the stairwell and instantly the four of them un-froze once more.

Seth blinked at Axel,

"So you sent the messages?"

The older man nodded unremorsefully,

"I did."

At some point he had also jutted his chin out and curled his fists in a fully defensive stance, which he had clearly adopted in expectation of trouble or violence or likely a little of both. After all, he was stood with the notorious Shield Team who pitched up nearly everywhere with their reputation leading the way. Not only that but he had _targeted_ one of them in a sustained and irrefutably personal kind of way, which on any other day would have landed him a beating but for some reason right then did the opposite.

"I'm sorry man."

Seth's words caught them all unsuspecting and it was possible that Dean even threw out a baffled _huh_ , although frankly it didn't even come close to matching Axel who was so thrown off by it that he deflated at once,

"You are?"

There was a note of caution like he didn't quite believe it, or like he thought it was the fake-out that came before a punch, but Seth wasn't shitting, he was deadly fucking serious and so repeated it again,

"I mean it man, I am. I caused a lot of hurt back then and I'm not proud of it either."

Axel blinked a few times,

"Oh."

Evidently in the planning of his campaign of messages and careful revenge plot, he hadn't factored remorse in and it was also clear that with it the motivation kind of tailed off a little, because payback wasn't so fun when meted out on a nice guy.

Seth pressed on,

"I wasn't myself when it happened. I was protecting my family but I did it all wrong. I never meant to drag other people down with me and that's something I have to live with from now on. But I'm doing everything I can to try and make things better and if you let me, I'd love to get the chance to apologize face-to-face to your old man."

 _Jesus._

Dean bit a wry sounding snort back because Seth certainly knew how to talk a good game. Meaning it of course, but going in so heavy that he almost _blinded_ Axel with the weight of his regret.

The red faced sheriff faltered in bewilderment,

"I – I mean, that would be something I guess."

The youngest team member nodded gratefully,

"Thanks man."

In fact everything about the situation seemed settled, since the two involved parties had somewhat cleared the air and the whole thing appeared so close to being over that Dean felt a flicker in his wrist that screamed _no_.

Not a chance in hell.

Not after he had spent the several nights previous cramped on the sofa in Seth's hotel room, listening to his brother toss and turn across the bed sheets clearly having nightmares about long-distant heel turn and which had been fuelled pretty much in their _entirety_ by the hand-scrawled missives shoved in beneath the door.

 _Axel_ had done that.

Axel had reminded him and made Seth feel like he was back there again, in the midst of the blackmail and betrayal and pressure.

Dean couldn't let that go –

Which was why he threw the punch.

It started out with a tap on Axel's shoulder that Dean sort of performed in a half-aware haze. Although the second the other man spun around towards him, his fist triggered fiercely and with purpose towards the face, launching across the short distance in between them and then smashing with full force between the eyeballs.

 _Bam._

Seth erupted,

" _Dean_ – ,"

Roman too gaped at him but then very lightly smirked as Curtis Axel howled,

" _Owww._ "

When Dean drew his fist back there was actual blood on it, which had slightly smeared the red trails starting to bead towards the floor. Poor Axel looked shocked – like he couldn't believe it or perhaps didn't _want_ to believe that it was real – but for Dean it shook out an immeasurable tension that flowed free through his shoulders and also his tongue,

" _Fuck_ that felt good."

He drew a deep breath in, filling his lungs like he was out for a hike before grinning across at Seth's very slack-jawed expression and shrugging a little in innocence.

 _What_?

"Ambrose, what the hell – ,"

But Dean didn't want to hear it because frankly in the moment he was feeling too good and a typical _Rollins_ style parental type lecture was likely to bring that chirpiness down, plus shave minutes off his life and fucking bore him and so instead of listen to it, he simply spun around.

"Uce?"

It was Roman that was the first to call out to him, the deep tones stopping him halfway back up the stairs and sounding a mixture of wry and sort of baffled by his middle brother's actions,

"Yeah?"

"Where you going babe?"

Turning on the stairs delivered him the image of the hapless Curtis Axel cupping his nose and Seth sort of hovering with mild concern beside him but evidently not wanting to get very close. At the bottom of the stairs the big brown eyes were staring up at him and in response to them, Dean threw down a chipper little smile and then shrugged his shoulders as if the answer was simple.

Which in essence it was –

"The coffee's getting cold."

* * *

 **Hero Dean Mode Activated...sort of, I mean, Seth wasn't actually in life or death danger, but he might have been so his brotherly intentions were good if nothing else! As ever, please let me know what you think!**

 **Next week, Dean gets all big _little_ brother when he spies Stephanie with someone and goes to have the chat!**


	13. Ten Simple Rules For Dating My Boss

**Happy Shield AU Monday! Got more Protective Dean feels coming for you now!**

 **Skovko, Happy to be of service making your day better. Ugh, I don't know what's up with this site lately but it keeps crashing and timing out and not letting me upload. Still, we get there in the end! Sorry, still don't agree on the coffee thing, but even I know congealed coffee must be horrible!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well, Dean didn't want to go too hard on a fellow officer of the law! But agreed, Seth has done everything he can think of to atone at this point, although maybe apologizing to Hennig is the very last step of his redemption story?!**

 **Mandy, I knew you'd be happy to see Stephanie back! I wasn't sure when I started writing this what it would turn into, but I think it's come up pretty sweet, with plenty of grumbling Dean as standard because it's pretty much one of my favourite things!**

 **Cherry619, Dean is like rampaging bull levels of angry if someone hurts his boys! I mean, let's face it though, the guy has precious few other people in his life and so he wouldn't be able to cope if he lost them as well. Keeping them safe is his new job in life (even though he gets into trouble more!)**

 **Minnie1015, Nothing wrong with wanting hurt Dean and protective boys AT ALL. I'm with you all the way. Got a good one on that front coming up in a few which is probably as dark I've been (still not** _ **dark**_ **dark though, it's me!) P.S. I see them as episodes too. Someone put this on TV already!**

 **Wwe21, Yep, poor old Seth can't catch a breath even when they're all the way out of town! Dean had to punch the guy in the face really, I knew, he left him no other choice. More protective Dean in this one, but for someone slightly different...although he still wants to punch somebody!**

 **Rebel8954, Yep, everyone has baggage of some sort in this series, including our poor old Seth. But you're right, the boy has paid his dues and Dean certainly agrees with you as well! More defensive Dean to the rescue this week, but for a slightly different person this time!**

 **Disapproving Dad Dean...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Ten Simple Rules For Dating My Boss**

Thanks to their surveillance van not having an in-built bathroom, they were used to having to pee wherever they could, which oftentimes was as glamorous a location as up a building, or into some bushes or an empty bottle if they lucked out.

Seth being frankly – well – _Seth_ about shit however, meant that he complained.

A whole damn _lot_.

So therefore catching a job near a restroom with fresh towels and soap was always a good start and it was also why their youngest member was so god damn happy with the case to which their merry band had been recently assigned. For Seth it was pretty much a double whammy since not only was the place a mere two blocks from his apartment, but because their van was parked beside some swanky restaurant with a gold star which included a nice and very glitzy bathroom with clean sinks and other vitally important things like that.

They had established early on that by flashing their badges they could swan into the place and use the facilities unannounced and although the manager of the eatery had looked disgruntled, they had pulled the _line of duty_ card and been given a free pass. Dean asking for spring rolls had been a step too far though and particularly when he had requested they send the damages to city hall and ask the erstwhile mayor of their vicinity to either foot the bill or likely add it to his tab.

Still, in terms of shitty jobs they had been faced with, the one they were on was by no means too bad and so the mood in the surveillance van was generally chirpy and laid back and contented –

Until Roman slid open the door.

Among the three of them the eldest of their number was by far the man who needed to pee the most, possessing a bladder that was the size of a walnut and an annoying lifelong habit of drinking too much. In the three days they had been there he had been in and out constantly and almost knew the restaurant like the back of his hand. Dean didn't doubt the place had named a _urinal_ after him or presented him his own stall but evidently not.

The Big Dog blew a breath out,

"You'll never guess who's in there."

Seth blinked,

"The bathroom? Do we even _want_ to know?"

Dean grinned lazily,

"Is _that_ why you've been going? An' here I was thinkin' we were the only men you loved."

Roman raised a big fuzzy brow in his direction and attempted to look mildly disapproving but failed because his middle brother had an irritating way of amusing him no matter how damn serious he was trying to be.

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Alright, I'll bite man, _who_ is in the restroom?"

Their largest teammate shook his head, pulling the door of the van shut behind him and falling back into his seat at the front. Despite the fact the thing wasn't moving, he still took his regular place behind the wheel, simply feeling _comfortable_ in that position the way Seth did in the back with their monitors and leads –

They all had their place.

"Not in the restroom," he continued, "In the dining room, having _dinner_ with someone."

"In a restaurant? Get outta here."

Dean's wry smirk echoed in around the vehicle and somewhere from the back Seth bit out a nasal bark and then bent in a little closer to the speakers and pressed the headphones to his ears like he was listening to something else.

Roman got right to it,

"Our _boss_ , alright wise guy?"

Dean frowned,

"Who, Vince?"

"Nope, the other one."

For a moment there was a strange sort of weirded out silence as the remaining two teammates tried to fathom what had been said and attempt to fit it into their version of reality, which was harder than it appeared.

Seth coughed,

"You mean _Steph_?"

"One and the same."

From where he was sat with his feet on the dashboard and crossed over at the ankles so he could tap a rhythm between the toes, Dean froze instantly and a shockwave shivered through him both hot and uncertain.

His blue eyes narrowed,

"Like, on a _date_?"

Roman blew a breath out then shrugged his broad shoulders like he wasn't really sure how to qualify the thing, but his silence alone spoke volumes on the matter and so Seth scooted closer like a gossipy schoolgirl,

"Who with man?"

Really all he needed was a pink diamante handbag and a gaggle of excitable fellow teenage girls and Dean felt himself start to prickle with frustration as their big dog smiled devilishly across the console.

"Angle."

"What?"

In spite of all the names he had expected thrown out there, the visiting mayor had definitely _not_ been one, which was why the copper blonde responded with such bewilderment and a frown that looked so deep it almost ate his whole brow.

Roman nodded,

"I'm serious, they're just sitting there, candle between them, laughing, the whole deal."

Dean curled his fists up harshly,

 _Asshole._

He didn't like the thought of the damn thing at all –

Partly because he straight up didn't like her date choice but mostly because he felt protective of her. In the way a little brother might look out for a sister who sometimes had things shit hard in life and tended to stumble into crazy decisions or pretend she was tough when she was really a mouse. Because that was the thing about their too ballsy chieftain, in that under the scaly hide there was a pretty tender heart and lots of gooey, fleshy sort of _pink_ bits that were buried deep down.

He didn't want her to get hurt.

Besides which her record with men was _appalling_ given her former husband was a murderous ass that had not only broken out of jail to try and kill her but had ruined Seth's career and almost his life. Frankly if Steph had fucking resurrected _Gandhi_ and taken him on the town Dean would have been unsure, because trouble just seemed to follow them like terriers and so why would their love lives have had a different outcome?

Seth chuckled wryly,

"That bald headed bastard."

He didn't seem pissed like Dean clearly was and when the copper blonde glanced in the seat beside his own one, it was to find his other brother sort of snickering as well.

Didn't they see the massive fucking problem?

Did they not realize that _they_ would be in the shit when it went wrong?

Because it would go wrong and their boss would be an asshole and bitchy and pissy for maybe years to come and take her frustrations out on her taskforce by handing them dangerous or even worse, _boring_ jobs. He slid his feet from the dashboard with purpose –

Someone had to fix things.

"I'm gonna take a leak."

Roman chuckled wryly,

"Whatever you say uce."

Both of his teammates were grinning up a storm and it made him frown in suspicion just a little, fingers tensed around the handle as he glared between them,

"What?"

Seth stretched his arms out and then yawned heavily which was hardly surprising since they had been there for hours and so far had gathered precious little in terms of evidence other than a cat in the window of their target house, which had sauntered up to the glass behind the drapery, stuck its leg in the air and then proceeded to lick its balls.

The younger man snorted,

"She's a fully grown woman, she's allowed to date whoever she wants."

" _I'm taking a leak_."

Roman fixed deep brown eyes on him and the copper blonde squirmed because he was using his _dad look._ Honed across the years by raising his three children and used to worrying effect on him as well, since Dean couldn't keep up his façade when faced with it, although he still always tried to.

"You gonna chew the guy out?"

Dean paused,

"No, but like, _if_ I bump into him – ,"

Roman grumbled warningly in response to that,

"Uce."

"Okay _fine_ , I promise I won't punch another city's mayor, even if he fuckin' deserves it alright?"

He said it with a huff and even flapped his hands for good measure like a sullen teenager who had been banned from going out, except that he hadn't been banned from going out anywhere and so slid from his seat and threw open the door.

Seth frowned,

"Hold up, where're you going?"

Dean shrugged,

"I told you, I'm gonna take a leak."

"Still?"

In graphic reply the copper blonde paused briefly before grabbing at his crotch and cupping his junk, like he was assessing the general level of his urgency with a contemplative frown before nodding back,

"Yep."

Seth flapped a hand in disgust,

" _Jesus_ , go man."

It no longer seemed to matter that they knew it was a lie, just so long as their teammate wasn't out there fondling himself on the street like a jerk and knowing it their middle man poked a teasing tongue out and then threw them a wink,

"Don't wait up."

Slamming the door closed he flipped up his collar to keep out some of the late winter chill, then plunged his hands deep into his pockets and set off round the corner and back out onto the street.

The restaurant itself was one of the city's finest and set in the fashionable old district as well, which meant the place came complete with a doorman who was there to prevent the clients from maybe stubbing a toe. He scowled at the policeman as he sloped in towards him and Dean responded by flipping out his badge and letting the metal crest shine in the lamplight and twist the man's expression into something reluctant –

 _Damn_.

Even so he only held the doors for a second and so the toughened glass panels swung and caught Dean on the ass, propelling him in across the monogrammed carpet with a grunt of discontent and a loud curse,

"Fuck."

Luckily the lobby wasn't terribly crowded but the few people in there looked up with a start and then frowned harder on seeing the police badge still gripped in his fingers and which he fumbled away,

 _Shit_.

The bathrooms were located along a raised walkway which skirted around the dipped dining room, therefore giving him a birds eye view of the customers which he used to his advantage.

He couldn't see them at first.

His blue eyes scanned the tables like an eagle owl and processed each person before swiftly moving on, looking for the long brown hair and stiff posture that would single out his boss without fail every time. It took him a while but eventually he found her and only a few steps before he hit the restroom door, sitting in a slightly sheltered position on a table by the window, hidden by an oversized pot plant.

"Bingo."

There was a man sat opposite, slumped loosely against the chair back and waving a hand in the air as he spoke, while the woman who was always so bossy and forthright stared back with an awe that Dean couldn't quite place.

She looked –

 _No way_.

She looked enraptured and even possibly on the borders of what he might have called love, or if not that then something very near to it, like infatuation or passion perhaps. Whatever the hell it was though, it simply didn't look right on her, because surely that's how the guy should have been looking at _her_?

Stephanie McMahon was not a simpering sort of person –

Except there she was, sat all fucking _doe eyed_.

Kurt Angle stared back at her, his bald head glowing and reflecting the candlelight in a mirror effect. He was _meant_ to be in town to open links between their cities, not to take the god damn police chief commissioner on a date.

Dean's fists clenched.

Would it really have been _so_ bad if he'd casually strolled over and punched the guy in the face? Probably yeah, plus he'd promised Seth he wouldn't and the fallout of _that_ would have been more than enough, without creating a diplomatic nightmare.

He watched for a moment longer.

Then Stephanie laughed –

As in a fully formed, _head tipped right back_ bark of happiness that travelled its way upwards and into her eyes in a burst of amusement he hadn't seen in forever and which seemed to imply that she was having a good time.

"God damn it."

It made it pretty fucking difficult to keep on being angry after having seen her laugh and suddenly Dean felt like some creepy intruder since he knew if she had seen him, the boss would have kicked his ass. Frankly he had been expecting her to look downright miserable and so the fact she simply _wasn't_ had kind of thrown him.

He still didn't like it –

She could have done better.

But short of stamping over and making a huge deal about it for no apparent reason, then there was nothing he could do and so instead he merely glared for a second, then blew out a breath and pushed in through the bathroom door.

 _Crap_.

What kind of psychopath was he anyway?

Following his god damn boss on a date?

Because she _was_ a grown ass woman and a free one and nor was she a lady who stood for any shit. Dean might have wanted to protect her on instinct, since she had been a big part of his life for so long and had been the only one physically _there_ when his girl had died, but he had forgotten that their commissioner could take care of herself.

"Idiot."

He splashed some water across his features and then braced against the sinks as he absorbed the bitter chill and let it rub out some of his defensiveness and the latent _brother_ instincts that didn't have any place. It felt pretty good and so he did it a second time and was still watching the water trickle down across his nose tip when somebody else idly joined him in the room, whistling to himself as he moved to the urinal and pulled down his zipper.

It was Kurt Angle.

 _Hell yeah_.

In his general existence fortune hadn't featured heavily and were it not for bad luck he would have had no luck at all and yet suddenly it seemed that the fates were smiling on him –

Or okay, maybe smirking and rubbing their hands.

Because _while_ their boss was fierce and temperamental and didn't let herself get played by anyone, the terrifying woman was still a part of his family and he needed to protect her at any and all costs. He didn't waste time and stepped up without blinking, while his fingers curled in on themselves into fists and his face adopted its most fucked up looking countenance that was reserved in usual life for killers or people who messed with kids.

Dean wet his lips,

"What the fuck is your problem?"

It came out harsher than he had meant it to sound and in response to it the shiny headed mayor lightly started and then made a move as if to turn his body round.

"Huh?"

For a second they both of them forgot that he was peeing but remembered pretty quickly as the hot torrent changed sounds and quickly moved from that of piss hitting porcelain to striking the wall between where the urinals were hung.

Dean flushed a little –

 _Oh right, bad timing_.

Then stood with the wind taken out of his sails as the smaller man in front of him unleashed some tempered curse words and then struggled to get himself back into his pants. It took a few attempts plus a near miss with the zipper that the lawman stood behind him could hear yet not see, but at last the visitor managed to get straight again and turned with a frown then a bewildered looking blink,

"Ambrose?"

Dean glared back across the space unflinching.

"I asked what your problem was."

"I – I don't understand."

Nor did the older man genuinely appear to since the confusion was painted right the way across his face and probably wasn't too misplaced a reaction considering that seconds earlier he had been taking a simple piss.

Dean rolled his eyes –

Okay, time to simplify.

"What the hell do you want with our boss?"

Kurt blinked again but then understanding hit him and his pinched expression faltered and then turned into something else, like a father who had been trying to comprehend his babbling toddler but was finally seeing logic beyond all the random grunts.

He chuckled,

"Wow, she said this might happen, I didn't believe it."

Dean frowned,

"What?"

"Steph said her boys might try and scare me off her and now here you are."

Blue eyes blinked,

" _She_ said that?"

Perhaps on some level Dean shouldn't have been sideswiped since his employer had long known him better than he knew himself, but at the same time he was totally and utterly stumped by it because how had he become such a predictable fucking ass?

Kurt chuckled,

"Yep, it looks like she's got your number, not surprising really, she's quite a woman after all."

Intended as a compliment an observation or otherwise, the line still broke in through Dean's wildly buzzing head and it made him look up with a measure of mistrustfulness that was so damn harsh that it made Angle step back.

"You haven't answered my question asshole."

"What question?"

"What the fuck do you want with my boss?"

Kurt blinked,

"I – I want to have dinner with her?"

He was acting like Dean was asking the strangest question in the world and it didn't much help level the copper blonde's aggression, since making him out as a lunatic never really did that and nor for that matter did keep stalling on an answer.

Dean frowned a little harder,

"Are you playin' her?"

"Meaning what?"

" _Meaning_ are you stringin' her along with this date crap so you can get some sorta deal outta her old man, or are you lookin' to get her to pimp _our_ asses out again to help you mop up some shit you got back in your crappy little town?"

He finished with an actual growl of suspicion so therefore wasn't prepared for the reception he got, because rather than hold his hands up and admit it, or try to weasel out the bald headed mayor merely laughed and not in a sound of hilarity either but in knee jerk reaction that seemed pretty much stunned.

His face crumpled up,

"You think I want something out of her?"

"You expect me to believe this is a real date?"

"Yes."

Dean blinked.

 _Oh_.

"But – ,"

 _Ohhh_.

He got it and a fraction too late to spare his growing flush, because for whatever reason it had just hadn't occurred to him that his boss was potentially getting serious with someone or that a guy might truly want to date her without stomping all over her or breaking her heart.

Kurt cleared his throat,

"I – I care about her, have done since the day we met."

Dean grunted back.

 _Fuck._

How in the space of thirty damn seconds had he gone from being the hero ever to the biggest god damn asshole there and not only that but having _meddled_ in Steph's love life which he could only hope to god she never found out about. Reaching up a hand his scratched his neck awkwardly, dragging stumpy nails through the slow growing fuzz as he tried to figure out where to push off from given that things had taken a pretty wild turn.

"Uh – ,"

He had known that Steph and Kurt had a history and it hadn't taken a genius to figure that it had been a sexual one, but somewhere along the line he had become so used to defending her that he had started to do it even to the people that she loved.

To the people that loved _her_.

He waived airy fingers,

"Look man – ,"

Kurt cut him off again and reached across the space to pat his shoulder with a smile, like he didn't bear a grudge about the numerous accusations or that he had very nearly pissed a trail right across the room.

"No, I get it, I think it's nice she has people. I mean, I think we both know that Steph can be a little _harsh_ and I guess I always thought that she was sort of alone out here since Hunter – ,"

The mood stiffened.

Kurt considered his next words carefully and then coughed.

" _Since the divorce_."

Dean grunted back and his blue eyes shivered which was pretty much the effect hearing the bastard's name always had and Kurt stood silently and watched the reaction happen before nodding his head lightly,

"She told me what happened when he broke out that time, when he took her hostage inside her bedroom – ,"

"So?"

"She said you saved her life, she – uh – she obviously thinks a great deal about you."

The copper blonde shrugged,

"We're the best guys she's got."

Kurt shook his head and blew out a chuckle, but a teeny little one like he was debating what came next and when he spoke again his voice sounded husky and he raised an awkward hand to scratch his _own_ head.

"No, not the others – I mean, she's obviously fond of them – but you and her is just something else."

"We've been through a lot."

Dean's answer was defensive because he wasn't really sure what the mayor was getting at or even if the guy maybe saw him as a rival which would never be the case because he and Steph were not like that and frankly the thought of which made him shudder.

She was like his big sister –

Or his smokin' hot aunt.

Luckily however Kurt picked up on the caution and moved to assuage the uncertainty at once, which he seemed to do solely through slapping people's shoulders in a move that he quickly drew out again then,

"Guess what I'm trying to say here, _badly_ , is that I'm more nervous of _you_ than I am of her old man."

Dean blinked,

"You shittin' me?"

"Not even remotely, I don't know if you realize it, but she really cares about what you think."

"Huh, holy fuck."

Dean wasn't terribly sure how to respond to it because it wasn't really something he had thought on before and nor had he ever really lamented on what he meant to her, since deep introspection had never really been his style. Still, if the boss lady's squeaky new boyfriend was standing in front of him saying their bond was special then maybe on some level it had to be true.

Right?

His blue eyes slid back upwards and stared at the mayor who was hovering with no small amount of nerves across the space. Dean seemingly held his love life in a vice grip and the power of that was a pretty sweet thing –

 _If_ he had wanted to, he could have ended the relationship.

 _If_ Steph asked for his opinion he could have scuppered the whole thing.

But weirdly he no longer wanted to do that because what if the bald idiot was the right man for her? His whole damn point for having stomped over was to make sure that his boss was not taken for a ride and not only was that quite clearly _not_ happening, but the man that she had chosen looked to be a nice guy.

Dean blew a breath out,

"Fine, go eat with her, before she thinks you're doin' more than takin' a damn leak."

Kurt blinked,

"So – ,"

" _Ugh_ , yes, you've got permission to date her, now get outta here, this is startin' to get weird."

He said it in tones like he was bored of the whole thing but in reality they both knew that wasn't the truth and instead he was simply trying to keep his louche façade up and maintain his deeply cavalier type of deal.

Kurt nodded,

"Thanks man."

Then he stuck a damn hand out like he was asking for permission to take his teenage daughter to the prom and Dean rolled his eyes but accepted it regardless with a wry sort of snort,

"Yeah, whatever dude."

From somewhere behind them the bathroom door banged open and one of the mayor's security hulks peered inside, clearly having wondered what in the blue hell was happening and more than a little dubious about what smells he might find. Kurt cleared his throat and then dropped Dean's hand smartly, before pulling his jacket close and buttoning it up. He shot him a wink and then headed for the doorway –

Dean didn't bother telling him that he hadn't washed his hands.

The room fell quiet and he waited for a moment until a respectable amount of time had passed, then followed suit and slid from the washrooms before skirting a path back the way he had come. Briefly his glance fell on Stephanie's table and sure enough, there she was with that happy look on her face, which seemed to be halfway towards a full blown _love thing_ but was okay when aimed at Kurt since evidently so was he.

 _Fuck_.

It was weird though –

Like every little part of it up to and including the revelations of his esteem.

Frankly he was happy to get back into the van again but did so with none of his usual hype, since his head was too full of what had just happened to be clicking and bouncing and singing and that shit.

Seth groaned,

" _Crap_ , you did something didn't you?"

Dean frowned back at him sullenly,

"No."

But evidently neither of his brothers in arms believed that since both pairs of brown eyes swung round to study his and sweep towards his knuckles to check for any scuff marks. Dean huffed a breath out and then held them up,

" _Look_ , I promised you I wouldn't punch that asshole didn't I?"

"You've been gone a long time."

"I had a big lunch."

Seth blew a breath out and wrinkled his nose up, predictably reeling back to the relative peace of their surveillance work, muttering a string of horrified expletives and making vomit noises that made Dean smirk. Roman however continued to stare across at him and after a second, the blue eyes frowned hotly,

"What?"

Roman shook his head,

"You'll tell us when you're ready."

"Nothin' to tell."

"If that's what you say uce."

 _Damn_.

For the next two hours they continued to stare outwards in the hopes of seeing some signs of life in the house and again being subjected to only more _cat licking_ as the perverse little feline put on a peep show, complete with hip swinging and dick pressed against glazing –

Not their preferred choice of viewing for a cold weekend night.

Dean's phone rang somewhere around about midnight and just as they were talking about packing things up and starting again bright and early in the morning. He fumbled it loose and then held it up,

"Yeah?"

" _Ambrose, how is everything going?_ "

Stephanie.

He blinked,

"Uh, you mean on the case?"

" _What else would I be calling to talk about at this time?_ "

Dean kicked himself,

"Oh yeah, nothin' I guess."

He paused for a second, not sure what was happening and trying his best to read between the lines. In their stalwart boss though it was practically impossible and so he simply sat in silence and waited for her to have her turn.

" _So_?"

"So what?"

" _How is the case going? Ambrose, are you sure you're alright?_ "

Dean barked a cough out,

"Yep, never better – case is great, it's really, really great."

From over to his left he could see Roman frowning and judging from the silence flooding in from behind him, his younger brother too was feeling confused but since he could only cope with one bewildered person, the copper blonde decided to stick with his boss.

" _I'm glad to hear it, I'll call again tomorrow._ "

Dean blew a breath out.

"Uh sure, we'll be here."

Evidently she didn't know about him sticking his nose in or threatening her date in the washroom like a goon and in hindsight he was more than a little bit grateful –

Kurt Angle was obviously a pretty stand-up guy.

" _Oh and one more thing_ – ,"

"Need me to varnish your broomstick?"

He grinned down the phone feeling fully at ease, leaning back to reacquaint his feet with the dashboard as he made himself comfortable.

" _Kurt says hello_."

"Ah crap."

* * *

 **So, the Kurt and Steph relationship was suggested to me and I actually kind of like it (took me back to the good old days) They aren't going to be a big part of the stories, but I'm happy that Steph's happy. See? I can be nice to them sometimes!**

 **Next week, Roman's kids are in town and Dean gets down to some babysitting. It doesn't end well. In fact it ends badly. For anyone who read my Squeaker story, it's going to be a lot like that!**


	14. Child's Play

**I love this one, it's super cute (I hope). No one prompted me, I just had to write it!**

 **Mandy, Dean can't help but be super protective of the people he loves! I have been toying with doing some story with Dean taking care of a baby, but not necessarily in this universe. As I always say, leave it with me and see what I can do!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Our boy likes to pretend he knows what he's doing but mostly he's just following that crazy head of his! His heart's in the right place though and of course Steph totally has his number...she's Steph!**

 **Cherry619, I hope you enjoy this one. I totally agree, Dean being cute with little kids is definitely a cute gooey prospect. I'm a bit of a sucker for writing that stuff and I'm not even ashamed! That is going to be super apparent here!**

 **Minnie1015, I figure Steph knows Dean a whole lot better than he thinks she does, but mostly I just like him being over protective (on the rare occasions people aren't being protective of** _ **him**_ **!) Kurt and Steph are cuter than I thought writing them would be!**

 **Skovko, Whoops, sorry to fill your head with** _ **mum and dad in bed**_ **vibes. Yeesh, that's not pleasant! I don't think Dean wants those thoughts either! Maybe I should apologise to both of you! Dean just gets hyper protective of his** _ **people**_ **.**

 **Wwe21, Glad you liked it, I'm enjoying writing these slightly more happy and cheerful ones. Plus we all know how much I love putting Dean in awkward situations and I figured that was probably the most awkward of the bunch! This week's is hopefully cute and funny!**

 **Cuteness overload now!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Child's Play**

The instructions might have well have been written in Swahili since Dean could make neither head nor tail of the things and not even the damn illustrations were helping, because none of the sketched images looked even _close_ to what he had. On top of that he was pretty sure he had some screws missing and about three pieces more than he was clearly meant to have and the shapes were starting to mess with his vision.

He threw down the instructions,

"We'll do it the old fashioned way."

Big brown eyes blinked back up at him cautiously, staring out from a beautiful and innocent little face and looking so much like an owl or a deer fawn that he could hardly fucking stand it.

"Don't you need them Uncle Dean?"

Predictably and pretty much in keeping with her father, the seven year old girl was a fan of doing things right and so the sight of the older man blithely shunning the _how to_ manual was troubling to her instantly.

The copper blonde shrugged,

"Nah, those things are more like _guidelines_ – y' know – for folks who've never done this stuff before."

She squatted down beside him and pawed her dark hair back, which upset a collection of bangles on her wrist, which were miles too big but made her feel _all growed up_ and so jangled around loudly and largely got in the way.

"You did this before?"

Her eyes filled with admiration and a belief in his abilities the policeman didn't often see and therefore forced him to bend the truth a little,

"I mean, I've built a lot of _things_ , sure."

Not that it was a lie exactly because frankly he could have never have done that to her, but what he felt it best _not_ to mention was that the things he had built were either sandwiches or guns. Strange though it was, constructing a playhouse had never really cropped up on his list of things to do, probably because he hadn't had children –

Still didn't for that matter.

The little girl blew out a breath,

"There are _lots_ of pieces."

Nor was she kidding.

Roman's entire living room was covered in bits of wood and about a rough ton of cardboard and packaging, including enough styrofoam to float a small ship. Dean himself was stranded on the floorboards in the sea of fragmented sections in different colors and shapes, some of which boasted pretty hand painted daisies or butterflies and other sort of uber girly shit. None of which appealed to the lawman on a great scale but wasn't important because the thing was for her –

The pintsized brunette sat cross-legged on the laminate and flushed with excitement.

His little buddy –

Roman's kid.

Despite the fact it had been months since he'd seen her and about a grand total of a year before that, their quirky relationship hadn't misfired and had instead reverted back to the way it had ever been, complete with the girl sort of _gluing_ herself to him and following him around like a chirpy little pup and nor would he have had the situation any differently.

She was a cutie.

He loved the fucking kid.

Plus she was a very teeny tiny part of Roman, which meant that she was instantly a member of their team and therefore so much more than some little brown eyed youngster –

Instead she was a part of their unconventional _family_.

Dean snorted fondly,

"Yeah kid, _lots_ of pieces, so how 'bout you and me gettin' started on 'em, huh?"

"Okay."

Her brown hair bounced as she nodded and then she shuffled in closer across the floorboards on her knees and glanced around at the explosion of pieces in excited anticipation,

"Now then which piece d' ya think goes first?"

She frowned for a second and bit her lip thoughtfully while actually tapping a finger against her chin in a pose that she had picked up from god only _knew_ where but was pretty damn adorable.

Dean fought down a grin.

"Uh, I think this one."

"Yeah?"

"It looks pretty."

He guessed on some level it probably did, at least to a seven year old with princess aspirations and a borderline harmful obsession with all things pink. Putting out a hand he beckoned her over and she hopped up in excitement with the pastel colored piece, the tutu she was wearing bobbing in happiness as she crossed the room towards him with a string of little skips before settling herself neatly in the crook of his crossed legs and leaning back against him. Dean swallowed down a hitch and instead reached out to take the fragment from her while frowning at it slightly,

"So, this bit, huh?"

" _Yep_."

It looked like a door arch or some such he figured since the pieces spread around them weren't labelled at all and so reaching across he found out the counterpart then pulled a bag of the million bolts and random screws close.

"Right then – ,"

Naturally though the things were different sizes and so he didn't have a clue which one was the best to use, plus he had tossed the instructions so conceitedly that he therefore couldn't lose face by having to drag the damn things back.

The tiny girl shifted,

"Um, do you need the rule book?"

He snorted at her softly,

"Nah, m' good."

But it was pretty clear to both of them that he wasn't fooling anyone and it made him frustrated because why the hell was it so hard? Roman was due back in maybe an hour and by that time he had figured he would have had the thing up and maybe even be crammed physically _inside_ it playing tea parties and proudly smirking about what he'd done.

Dean checked his watch,

"Squirt, how long does a haircut take?"

"Um, a long _long_ time with the twins."

"Yeah?"

Her head nodded emphatically up and down against him and created a static charge against the fabric of his shirt that then sent her long brown hair all frizzy and he palmed it down gently as the little girl carried on,

"They hate it, they scream and _pinch_ and everything so that's why mama made papa do it this time."

Dean snorted.

"Uh huh."

Because in other words what she was telling him, was that Roman's former wife had the whole thing plotted out and had saved up the shittiest tasks for his week with them which was pretty unfair but he figured made sense. After all _Roman_ was the one who had left them and therefore turned her into an unexpected single mom and so it wasn't surprising that she didn't make things easy –

Dean knew for a fact _he_ wouldn't have done.

Besides, having a haircut was a normal life experience and the big guy missed so much day to day _parent_ stuff that maybe he would even like being the one to do it and take the _screaming pinching_ business and laugh it all off?

Seth wouldn't though –

Poor guy.

He would be traumatised and probably end up covered in tiny little bitemarks and welts from all the bloodshed that he could only assume was happening based on the kid's description.

Dean snorted,

 _Sorry man_.

In choosing which one of them would stay and build the playhouse and which one of them would help drag the toddlers for their trim, they had initially decided on the old _toss a coin_ method up until the tiny little girl had pleaded for _him_ and stuck out her lip and let it wobble just a little until not one of their big asses had been able to turn her down.

Especially not her father,

" _Alright, alright baby, Uncle Deano can stay here with you_."

It turned that out that in doing so she had saved him from a pinching and so he pulled her in closer to hum a teasing note against her hair and she giggled and twisted in his lap to push his face back, which made the oversized bangles clatter up against his cheek,

"Uncle Dean – ,"

He ignored her chirpy little protest and instead dropped his lips down onto her neck and blew a big long raspberry across it which made the skinny little youngster almost _explode_ with mirth.

" _Uncle Dean_ , no, not fair, noooo, stop it, it tickles, I can't – I can't breathe."

He released her grinning and she giggled against him in big belly laughs that rattled right down into her core and made it okay that he was sitting in bombsite because every last bit of the chaos was for her. In fact she had always had a grounding effect on him –

 _Always_.

Right back to the first day they had met.

Back then she had only been a clumsy little toddler, padding unsteadily around Roman's back yard, but for whatever reason she had made a beeline for him and then stumbled around after him any time he had shown up. Dean's fiancée had been totally besotted and the little girl had taken a shine to her too and generally made them both think about a family and having kids of their own in a way they hadn't done before.

 _Fuck_.

His girl would have been _perfect_ as a mother and thinking about that could still get him choked, which he couldn't do there because the kid would have been worried or even worse maybe think that _she_ had done something wrong.

He cleared his throat,

"Squirt, you're gonna have to stop distractin' me 'cos I'm tryin' a get some real buildin' done here."

Her hair was all messed up but her brown eyes were sparkling,

"Uncle Dean, you're silly."

He raised a brow at her,

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep."

"How silly?"

The kid brought her arms up and measured out a distance that was probably two or three times her breadth and which she evidently felt was a pretty good visual of the levels of his lunacy.

He smirked back coolly,

" _Hmm_ , I see."

Then without warning he snatched her in close again and pressed another long merciless raspberry down as punishment for seemingly having doubted his mental state and she squealed and _teared up_ she was laughing so hard.

"Stop, _stop_ – ,"

"D' ya still think I'm silly?"

Her tone was shrill,

" _No_."

"Promise?"

"Uh huh."

But the second he unwound his broad arms from around her, she was up on her feet and struggling from his lap, almost kneeing him in the junk in her excitement as she sprang to her feet and turned to flash her rosy cheeks, which were almost fucking _glowing_ with amusement as she pointed in triumph,

" _Ha_ , yes you are, you'll always be silly."

Dean made a move towards her and she shrieked and swiftly charged off out across the room, her tiny toes slipping on the polished wooden floorboards as she dashed into the hallway with the policeman in hot pursuit, but moving at possibly only about a quarter speed to give her a chance.

He was generous like that.

"Squirt, that's it, I'm comin' to getcha."

Her breathless like giggle made him grin like an idiot but at the same time he couldn't help but bite back a wry snort, because the chances were high that if anyone could see him, then his _give a shit_ façade would have been totally up and possibly with it his reputation as a tough guy or rough and tumble lawman.

"You can't catch me."

Launching herself up onto her father's neat bedsheets, the little brunette proceeded to ballerina twirl and attempt to make a mockery out of his sluggishness which he hammed up in an uber slow grab for her leg. She squealed in response and then dived from his clutches before turning and hurrying back out into the hall and the copper blonde chuckled and then roared like a lion or some legendary creature that was half dragon, half man.

"Now you got me mad kid, you won't like me when I'm angry."

In terms of hiding quietly she wasn't the best –

Dean could hear her giggling as he stepped out of the bedroom and followed the tinkling sound right back into the living room. It was patently obvious that she was crouched behind the sofa and also pretty obvious that she was laughing into her hand, no doubt thinking that she had fooled him into bafflement.

He grinned.

"Squirt, you in here?"

 _So fucking cute_.

His plan to catch her was not exactly complex and was centred around forcing her to launch across the couch, at which point he would easily pluck her from the ether and then tickle her until she promised that he was not a _silly_ man.

That was his general idea anyway.

In reality however it didn't work out so well –

Because as his proximity forced her over the cushions and into the skies like he had figured it would, Dean stepped round to catch the little monkey but managed to forget the playhouse pieces on the ground.

"Crap – ,"

His foot caught one and sent it skittering away from him but it promptly butted up against a much larger bit, which tucked up snugly against the foot of the big couch and at that point refused to budge even another _half_ an inch. Dean toppled forwards, with his foot caught on the edge of it and then didn't have time to throw his hands fully up, which meant that as he tumbled right in towards the table, he could do little else except cuss again loudly,

" _Fuck_."

His temple glanced off the side of the glass topper and everything went black –

Maybe he _was_ a silly man?

Either way he didn't feel the impact of the floorboards although he surely must have hit them, instead the whole world was still and a little bit like he was floating through molasses or hovering high up in a bank of dark clouds.

There was nothing and no one.

He was totally abandoned –

Then someone was yelling at him in panicky nasal tones,

"Dean? Damn it. _Dean_."

He would have known them anywhere since their littlest brother had a certain quality to his sound, besides which he was usually the most likely to be shouting and chastising him for something he had probably done wrong.

" _Ugh_ – ,"

For a second he was convinced that some asshole was whistling a constant high note alongside his ear and he flapped a sluggish hand to try and push them back again before coming into contact with nothing but thin air.

 _Huh_?

He rolled his body a little in dissension and attempted to open his heavy feeling eyes at which point his nerve endings fired into life again and delivered him into a _world_ of unadulterated pain.

" _Cr'p_ – ,"

His cranium was essentially on fire and for some reason his heart had migrated into his head and taken position alongside his temple to thud like someone was mining in there. He could no longer feel the limbs of his body and for all he knew right then could have _lost_ them at some point since all he could fathom was the pounding sensation and that ever present whistling noise rattling his brain.

"Dean, come on man, open your eyes damn it."

"Uce."

 _Roman_?

Roman was there as well?

Besides which where _was_ there and what the hell was happening and why in the world did he feel like such crap when all he had done was stub his toe on something and fallen towards a table and –

 _Oh_.

He inched an eyelid up and then very readily wished that he hadn't as the brightness of the daylight hit him like a dart and furthermore beat him like they were fucking brawling or maybe like a rabid kangaroo or some shit, because they wore boxing gloves and did that kind of thing, right?

"Uce, can you hear us?"

Big broad hands fell down on his shoulders, or maybe they had been there all along –

Who knew?

Either way he tried once again at simply blinking and managed it _just_ although it really fucking hurt. It took a second longer for his vision to lose the fuzz clouds but the moment they parted there his two brothers were, hanging across him, brows knitted in worry and their touch burning through him.

Dean frowned weakly,

"You're back."

Roman snorted softly in response to the statement and ghosted a palm through the copper blonde hair, narrowing his gaze towards the site of the thumping and evidently drinking the external injury levels in. Beside him Seth blew out a breath of frustration and gripped the middle man's shoulders tight, like he was either trying to prop up his brother or else squeeze out the worry,

"Can't leave your ass for an _hour_."

Dean moved again, trying to sit himself upright but he came off looking like a turtle on its back and so promptly gave up and instead glanced around him at the painted wooden pieces lying thrown around the joint.

What were _they_ for?

Recollection hit him suddenly and he blinked up in bewilderment,

"Did I finish the playhouse yet?"

Roman winced and seemed to think about his answer while casting his big brown eyes over the room, but whatever he was thinking he clearly didn't say it and instead smiled back thinly,

"Uh, you missed a couple bits."

"Oh."

From somewhere off down to the left of the big man there was a little sort of hiccupped and intermittent sound and it made the battered lawman frown over in its direction and then shift so that he could see where the noise was coming from.

The source surprised him –

"Squirt?"

The poor girl was crying and tucked up close against her loving father's side as she buried her head against the safety of his ribcage and set her sights on bawling out an actual _waterworks_ complete with hitched sobs and distraught coughing and the lot.

Dean felt his heart lurch,

"Hey, why – why is she cryin'?"

"It's okay, she was just kinda worried about you uce."

"Me?"

"Uh huh."

"What for?"

He meant it –

He couldn't figure out why she was so upset at all and in response to the question their younger brother rolled his brown orbs and bit out a sentence,

"You knocked yourself out in front of her you idiot, what in the hell do you _think_ she's crying for?"

" _Seth_."

Roman's frown could probably have melted ground frost but it didn't seem to trouble their teammate one bit, because their technical wizard merely continued to grumble like an overbearing mother,

"Always having to worry about your ass – ,"

Dean blinked and with it felt his faculties returning along with control of his body as well and so tentatively pushed back onto his elbows and from there into a sit.

His head spun wildly,

" _Whoa_."

Both of his brothers were there in an instant, although Roman was moving kind of one handed since the other palm was still pressed tight to his kid,

"Easy uce, just take it easy."

Dean ignored him,

"Squirt, c' mere."

The tear streaked little face rose up from her father's sweatshirt and blinked big solemn brown orbs back his way, almost like the kid was expecting to see a head wound or maybe something gruesome like his eyeball hanging out. The fact that there was neither seemed to vaguely reassure her and she hauled a sob in and swiped a hand across her cheeks. Roman helped her, thumbing away her tear trails and then jiggling her a little in encouragement,

"Go ahead."

Dean got the impression that she was maybe scared of breaking him and so held his arms out to her to prove that he was good, even though his head was still pounding pretty fiercely and he couldn't really promise that he wouldn't throw up. Not to mention he was still sketchy on what had happened, although _parts_ were coming back to him –

Like them playing chase.

The little girl stood up and unsuckered from Roman as the big man continued to gently guide her towards Dean's arms and in the background Seth blew out a relieved sounding exhale and then lightly shook his head,

"I'll go grab some ice, because if that thing doesn't come up like a baseball I'll eat my hat."

He wasn't wearing a hat –

Luckily though that thought was interrupted as the still snuffling baby girl closed in on his chest and then sank down onto her knees very gently and leant in towards him,

"You – you _scareded_ me."

"M' sorry kid, guess m' no good at buildin' after all."

Hearing him talking normally clearly smoothed some of her worries out and she sniffed again then gently pillowed her head down, laying it against him as she wound her arms around his neckline and then clung on fiercely like she wasn't giving up and in response he snorted in touched sort of bewilderment and hugged her back gently,

"Squirt, s' okay, m' alright."

By which he meant he was upright and conscious since _alright_ was probably an optimistic word and Roman put out a hand and squeezed his shoulder, before brushing the bump again like he was following the same lines. Somewhere from behind them there was a slushy sounding rustling and Seth strolled in with a bag of frozen peas, which he tossed towards the bigger of his teammates one handed, letting Roman apply the makeshift compress to Dean's face.

"This is gonna smart uce,"

He wasn't fucking kidding –

Based on the pain there was one hell of a welt, although Dean had always taken pride in being hard headed and evidently not even a solid oak dining table could keep him down.

 _Take that_.

Seth squatted next to him,

"You should go and get checked out man."

Dean snorted at him,

"Nah, m' all good."

It was his standard answer to any sort of beating or shooting or evident _self-concussing_ as well and having braced for it, their younger brother rolled his eyes again and murmured something incoherent that tapered into a word.

"Idiot."

In the corner of the room Roman's twin sons were scrapping and rolling around happily oblivious to it all and squinting his eyes allowed Dean to look more closely and in particular at their clearly very _uncut_ hair.

He raised a brow,

"They got all pinchy didn't they?"

Roman blinked in surprise,

"Wait, how do you know?"

Down in his arms and still snuggled against his shirt front, his pintsized little buddy stayed holding him tight and the copper blonde reached down and tousled her hair fondly until the mildly damp big brown eyes slowly looked up.

He winked her,

"I might 'a had the inside track there."

His cavalier sentence was rewarded with a grin and seemingly finally at ease with the situation, the little girl turned round and took a seat on his legs, facing him and then running a worried hand over his temple as she bit her bottom lip.

Were _all_ girls tiny moms?

He caught her hand grinning and then moved it back towards her, using it to very lightly tap against her own face.

"Why are you hittin' yourself?"

Her eyes rolled at him but she giggled at the silliness of it anyway,

" _Uncle Dean_ – ,"

In a second all was right with their weird little world again and knowing it Roman snorted out a relieved sounding huff before reaching out a hand and first palming his daughter's and then his brother's unruly hair down. Beside them Seth grunted then moved up onto the sofa, at which point Dean caught sight of a red mark on his arm.

Lots of them –

Tracing both up and then down again and looking weird and angry.

He frowned,

"What are those man?"

For a second no one spoke and then Seth glanced at Roman and a frisson of discontent seemed to bolt across the room, like the pair of them had fought together in the trenches and were remembering the horrors, only their experience was _worse_ and expressed with a glance towards the tumbling toddlers and then a single word.

" _Pinchy_."

Dean understood.

Not only that but he had never been more grateful for the tiny little girl who had protected him from that hurt and saved him from taking the dreaded trip out to the barbershop with the murderous babies.

He hugged her tighter,

"Thanks Squirt."

* * *

 **I'll say it again, writing this one was so much fun and super cute! But of course we needed protective/worried Roman and Seth!**

 **Next week is one of my total favourites, but it's hard to describe. Let's just say that Dean gets a frustrating lesson in what it is to have family!**


	15. Family

**So this one turned into one of my favourites which is good because I was super worried about how it would come out. It was something I could see in my head so clearly but wasn't sure how to put into words, anyway, as ever I'm going to let you guys be the judge, so please let me know what you think!**

 **Skovko, Nope, but then that's the beauty of babysitting isn't it? You get to have fun (or in Dean's case concussion) and then you get to give them back for all of the screaming and pinching stuff! So honestly I think you and I have the right idea on that part!**

 **Cherry619, Aww, glad you liked it! Seth always has to be a combination of concerned and annoyed, otherwise it wouldn't be Seth! I love writing Dean with children, it is one of my many guilty pleasures! Roman is just a big teddy bear!**

 **Mandy, I thought it was time for a huge dose of adorable and I think we all know that I have a real soft spot for big tough, grumbly guys with little kids. Plus I figure that for all Dean's swearing and crashing about, he's actually a teddy underneath. Totally loved writing it, glad you loved reading!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Hey, glad you're still loving these. I can certainly file that idea away, because you know I love Dean being coddled as well, but I'm actually going to be working on a new full length one of these, so maybe I can sneak a bit of that in there? Hmmm *goes off to think***

 **SkittlezLvr79, I like to think that Roman's poor daughter was only alone for a minute at the most, but yeah, trust her favourite most fun uncle to be a total klutz and scare her half to death! As for Seth and Roman? I think what they went through would be too traumatic to write/read!**

 **Minnie1015, What is one of my stories without hurt Dean? I mean, is it even one of mine at all if that doesn't happen? A bit like a tree falling in the woods I guess! Plus, I figured I was long overdue some grumpy Seth panicking. I've missed his poor bedside manner!**

 **Wwe21, Dean can never have a nice relaxing day, it wouldn't be normal if he didn't get into trouble! Not sure when or if I'll be able to get around to new requests but I'll store Corbin away just incase. Want to write another full length one of these first.**

 **Strap in for this one folks!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Family**

The first time her birthday had come around after the accident, Dean had pretty much closed off from the world and shut himself away in the safety of their apartment largely wallowing in his misery and eating way too much. The second year had been better because the guys had been with him and the three of them had been busy staking out a drugs den. They hadn't remembered but then he'd known that they wouldn't and in many ways it had actually been a positive thing, since he hadn't been in any state to deal with their compassion and so the day passing by in quiet reflection had been his plan.

But those were all before he had broken down in the asylum –

Drug induced sure, but it had happened all the same and in spite of the fact that he had told them both faithfully that he couldn't recall shit he could remember _every word_ and with it the feelings that had swamped and taken hold of him and the way that both his brothers had held onto him tight and promised him over and over never to leave him and allowed him to cry and just _let it all out_.

He had always been told that crying was cathartic.

Hell, his girl had said it herself usually when she had started to bawl at some movie which had a happy ending and which always scared him half to death. He had never been good at giving out comfort so therefore having her teary had not been anything he'd liked, although she had merely smiling through her sobbing as he'd panicked in front of her,

" _It's okay, they're good tears_."

Bullshit –

That had been his thoughts on the matter and never since that moment had his opinions once flinched and yet ever since having fallen apart in the asylum he had felt weirdly _lighter_ , like he had benefited from breaking down.

"Looks like you were right kid."

He winked at the ceiling and then went back to pouring tortilla chips into bowls and trying to slice little offerings of celery and carrot without taking the damn skin off his thumb.

Dean Ambrose was hosting.

Like genuinely _hosting_ and not for his brothers either but for proper visiting guests, who were due to pitch up at any fucking moment and whose entire _pending status_ was driving him mad. It had been two years since they had visited his apartment and although they had kept contact they hadn't physically met up much, which was why he wanted everything to be perfect. It was also why he was putting real crudités out. Not to mention why he then almost dropped them completely when in transferring them to the living room the bell buzzed.

" _Crap_."

Dumping the platter of treats onto the couch arm, he crossed into the hall then gathered himself, bouncing on his toes like he was priming for fight club before taking a breath and opening the door.

Two faces peered back,

"Dean, my goodness you're looking well honey, thank you for inviting us."

 _Fuck_.

It was always the same.

Her mother looked so much like _her_ it was painful and whenever he saw the likeness it took his breath away anew and forced him to sort of stand and wheeze for a second like some weird blinking lunatic instead of the host.

He shook himself out of it and stepped forward smiling,

"Are you gettin' younger every year or what?"

The older woman chuckled and swiped at him bashfully and in an instant they were back on familiar turf since his whole rationale when it came to aging women was to flatter them so relentlessly that they fell to his charm.

It worked every time.

"Oh you."

She moved in closer then rose up onto her tiptoes to peck him a sweet little greeting on the cheek, but the lament in her eyes became suddenly more obvious, as did the look in his because it wasn't the same. No longer were their meetups cheerful occasions with laughing and teasing and family love and they all of them knew that nor would they _ever_ be since they would forever be missing the reason for that.

Dean bit his lip,

"Here son, we brought a bottle."

Thankfully her father was a practical man and sensing a fast growing measure of sorrow, he quickly thrust an offering of pinot noir out and although the copper blonde would have been happier with beer cans or a gallon of vodka he took it anyway.

"Uh, thanks."

It went into the kitchen to sit beside the other pretty scant but varied drink options he had and once that was done he took their coats from them and then hung them with care in the hall on the rack. By the time that was finished and the crudités were passed out, Dean was even starting to settle into the thing and put aside his fears of having people over.

Or _them_ anyway.

Then her mother spoke up.

"We visited the grave this morning, took her some flowers,"

It killed the mood dead and he actually felt himself sort of deflating because of course it wasn't a normal social call and therefore he had no damn right to relax into it when they were coming together merely to celebrate _her_ –

The singular reason they knew each other at all.

He snapped a stick of celery between his teeth and chewed, ignoring the way it clung his throat and refused to go the rest of the way down, like it was being blocked by something, like a lump.

"Oh, uh, _yeah_?"

"Do you go often?"

It wasn't accusing but he couldn't help but squirm at the question all the same because the truth of the matter was that he didn't really visit since he had never really seen the cold headstone as _her_ or the grey little graveyard as somewhere she would _want_ to be.

He felt her in the apartment though –

That was why he had stayed there.

Not that her poor parents who were pretty traditional would be able to work _that_ one out at all, so instead he merely coughed a little on the celery and then tried not to lie to them,

"I see her a lot."

Mostly in his dreams but that wasn't important and at any rate the line seemed to make her parents nod, like they figured he meant that he was always at her headstone which was better than nothing.

Her mother smiled,

"I'm sure you do."

For the next few seconds or possibly minutes since he was still too god damn worked up to really tell, the three of them sat in an expectant sort of silence that as the host was probably his job to break. But what exactly was a suitable topic at what was essentially a reprised yearly wake and how in the hell was he meant to pick the mood up if he was meant to at _all_?

It was a minefield of unknowns.

Luckily however, her mother saved the moment by clearing her throat and looking up again, brushing a hand across the knee of her clothing to get rid of the tortilla crumbs.

"We worry about you in this place."

Dean frowned,

"Huh?"

She shrugged back lightly, clearly trying to downplay the hidden weight of the words, not to mention their much more obvious implication that in their eyes he wasn't coping –

"In this apartment all alone."

"M' not alone."

His response sounded sullen which wasn't his intention since he was mostly confused and also largely pretty unaccustomed to anyone beyond two people giving a crap about him. Her mother looked back at him, soft but also doubtful,

"You don't have any _family_."

In many ways she wasn't _wrong_.

His blood kin at least were not people he could lean on and for the most part he hadn't seen any of them in years, which was fine by him because he didn't really like them and had never even missed their thieving company once. But to the stable and middle class couple in front of him, with their nuclear family of relatives and love, his existence probably seemed utterly barren.

He shrugged off-hand,

"I got people."

"Like who?"

"My teammates, I mean, they're more like brothers, we kinda look out for each other, y' know?"

It was clear that she didn't since she merely stared back at him and although it was fuelled by a deep parental instinct it still caught the copper blonde all sorts of _wrong_ because god damn it if he hadn't been trying his hardest to forge the new life that was she unintentionally tearing down –

The doorbell ringing was an instant relief to him, although he still frowned deeply.

Who the hell was _that_ now?

He extended an awkward smile,

"Uh, I'd better go and get that."

They nodded their assent and he was gone in a flash, blitzing out into the hall breathing rapidly and potentially on the brink of a panic attack. It meant that he was glaring as he flung the door open and prepared to yell out at whoever it was.

Seth pushed past him.

"Hey man."

Roman followed and in the blink of an eye they were already in and chattering loudly and teasing like usual in a cacophony of sound that flooded every room. Seth was carrying a merrily clinking six pack and toting a bag of video games, while their big guy had a console tucked under an armpit trailing a multitude of colorful leads.

Dean blinked,

"The _hell_ – ,"

Roman clapped his shoulder,

"Figured you could use a bit of company uce and don't blame me for the games thing either."

He pointed a finger at the younger of their brothers to show that the playstation had been by no means his idea, at which point Dean realized Seth was halfway towards the living room and turning through the doorway.

He burst after him,

"Hey, wait – ,"

By the time he stumbled in over the threshold, Seth had already stopped short on the rug and so Dean ended up banging into the back of him as Roman followed quietly with confusion on his brow.

"Uh, uce?"

Two quizzical faces peered up at them from over on the sofas before the assorted crudités and a pause of uncertainty briefly fell across them as they waited for introductions.

Dean cleared his throat.

It was weird that in the three blissful years that they had dated, neither of his brothers had met his fiancée's parents once although he knew for a _fact_ that she had told her folks about them since their lives as a couple had been bound to the two men, who had not only been his family and teammates but also pretty much their entire social set –

At least until their youngest had been hauled off to jail for trying to smash his skull in.

Probably best not to mention that.

"Uh, these are the guys I was tellin' you 'bout earlier, my brothers."

He gestured loosely towards them with a hand as the other one reached up to itch subconsciously at his neckline in a movement of uneasiness that he was prone to pulling out. Her parents in response hauled themselves from the sofas and the eight million scatter cushions his girl had used to love and hands were extended and shaken in confusion as he rounded out the greeting,

"Uh, these are her folks."

Nobody needed to ask him who _her_ was and nor did they question him not using her name, because the one thing they all of them knew and could reason with was the intricate and different ways that people processed their grief.

Her father smiled,

"Pleasure to meet you, so, is this a social call?"

Roman put down the games console rapidly and tried to shunt it beneath a cushion,

"We were in the neighborhood, you know?"

The fact that they were there at _all_ was surprising, since none of the three of them had made any plans and in fact Dean had specifically told them that he was busy, so why in the hell had they pitched up anyhow?

Seth cleared his throat.

He was probably feeling awkward since he didn't know how much the couple in front of him already knew and therefore whether they would view him with suspicion or downright animosity if he hinted at the truth.

 _Hey, I'm the guy that panicked and tried to kill your son-in-law a couple years back, remember that_?

He gestured towards them lightly in the interim,

"I'm sorry for your loss, especially today."

Dean frowned.

 _Huh_.

They had remembered her birthday after all, which meant that they probably had across the past two years as well and simply not mentioned it in an attempt to not upset him, or through following his lead since he'd not brought it up himself. In many ways it probably shouldn't have surprised him because his teammates had never really let him down before and yet the fact that they were so fucking attuned to the anniversaries and anything that might affect him kind of _hit_ him in the gut.

In a good way though –

In a really, really good way.

Her parents smiled across at the younger of his brothers in a mixture of several emotions at once but it seemed that they too were touched by the sentiments, because her mother put a hand out and took hold of Seth's hand,

"Thank you, how sweet of you to remember."

Dean watched it happen with a dazed little smile, thinking almost absently how his girl would have loved watching the most important people in her world getting to meet for the first time and not merely that but getting _on_ with one another.

His blue eyes flickered upwards.

 _Hey baby, look at that._

From the spot alongside him and still hovering by the threshold, Roman reached out a solidifying hand and used it to squeeze Dean's shoulder very gently as he leant in a little,

"We'll get out of your hair."

Evidently his brothers both felt they were intruding and perhaps five minutes earlier the copper blonde would have agreed, but something about having them both there was soothing and settled him like that was simply how things were meant to be.

He swallowed down a lump,

"I mean – c' mon – you guys just got here."

"You want us to stay?"

" _Someone's_ gotta help me host."

Roman's eyes cast over the crudités and the two tall and half-finished glasses of red wine before looking back again and smiling at his brother with a quick hair ruffle,

"Looks like you're doing great babe."

Dean huffed a breath out but didn't deny it and so the big man let his hand lightly linger in the curls, both of them watching as their charming younger brother took a seat on the sofa and kept the social bit up. He was smiling at something the older woman was saying and it took the main heat of hosting from Dean in a way that their visitors would never have fathomed but the copper blonde got instantly.

He smirked.

 _Thanks man_.

Removing his hand with a final swift tousle, Roman turned to put the beer in the fridge and was halfway over the lip into the kitchen when the doorbell fucking rang out a _second_ time.

Dean blinked.

"What the – ,"

Four faces spun towards him with the full expectation that he would know who it was, which was probably a logical conclusion to reach for but also totally and utterly wrong. For the most part the lawman didn't get many visitors and the two that turned up frequently were already there and so frankly based on that, his guesses stood at nothing.

He pointed across his shoulder,

"I'll – uh – go get that _again_."

Marching across the hallway he mentally debated whether the string of interruptions was a good or bad thing, since while he hadn't been screwing up _too_ badly, it was still pretty obvious that social hooplas weren't his thing and especially not when they meant chatting with the parents of the person he had loved more than anyone in the world and whose presence reminded him with every inhalation that _she_ wasn't there beside him and never would be again.

He flung the door open feeling pissy,

"Not interested."

Because it _had_ to a be a girl scout selling cookies or some crap, right? Except that it wasn't and instead on the threshold stood a long haired brunette woman in an immaculate pant suit, with arms folded tightly across her buttoned jacket and a smirk across her brow that he knew only too well.

She tipped her head,

"Pity."

"What the hell are _you_ doin' here?"

"I can't visit my favorite employee?"

"Not on a weekend you can't no."

The commissioner grinned and the sight was so alarming that momentarily her copper blonde policeman was lost for words, because of all of the things that had happened already, his boss turning up had pretty much topped the lot and he could _not_ fathom why in the world she was in front of him.

"Steph – ,"

She brushed past,

"I brought champagne, the _good_ stuff."

"What?"

For a second as she sauntered in over the carpet he simply held the door and blinked at her in shock. Promptly though it changed to outright anxiety as she turned into the living room without a single backwards look,

"God damn it – ,"

He slammed the door and hurried in after her, lamenting the way people kept fucking _marching_ into his home. Maybe it was time for a guard dog or a laser beam that would neatly slice off heads before folk made it that far?

"Oh."

He heard his boss react to the audience as she beat him to it into the room and arrived to find her hovering on the carpet, gazing around in bafflement.

 _Yep, should have rung first_.

Luckily since Seth was still in residence, he took swiftly took hold of the introduction ropes and pointed a hand in the direction of the woman who was holding a bottle and two champagne flutes.

"Steph, nice to see you – uh – this is our commissioner and the person who signs the pay cheques."

They reacted at once and for the second time in what felt like as many fucking minutes, her parents launched upright and started shaking hands again, everyone chatting and placing one another within the god damn _party_ that was starting to take shape.

Dean dropped his head into his hand.

 _Unbelievable_.

Then Steph's voice rang out,

"I know how hard today must be."

He blinked and looked up to find her gazing at the couple and even lightly holding the older woman's hand, in a gesture of such genuine human emotion that it only half computed –

Stephanie McMahon had remembered _as well_?

Really it was sort of a weird feeling moment, since it was frankly the last thing Dean would have banked on going down and yet there it was in bright technicolour and strangely affecting too.

Because it meant they _cared_.

Not that it stopped him from actually _cursing_ when the doorbell echoed out loudly again, in a cheery little note that was starting to draw spasms and turn his loose fingers into tightly clenched fists.

Roman loped past,

"Don't worry uce, I got this."

In the ever busy living room, her mother drew in her brows and took another sip of wine, finding out Dean with a curious expression that sparkled in her eyes,

"What does that mean?"

"Uce?"

"That's the one, what a strange word, I've never heard it."

Dean strained his ears in the direction of the door,

"Uh, it means _brother_ in his family's native language."

"Brother?"

"Yeah."

"I see, how sweet."

There was something in the tone of the older woman's answer that briefly caught the attention of the stressed copper blonde, although before he could properly assess what it might be there was a trampling of footsteps and then a loud voice from the hall,

"Ambrose, son."

He blinked in astonishment –

Full and total astonishment that stole the words right from him.

" _Vince_?"

Roman was stood just behind him in the doorway and wincing in apology like he hadn't been able to hold him back and which was likely because flanking their erstwhile mayor were two black suited men with shades and earpieces in place.

Suddenly his little apartment seemed even smaller.

The grey twill moved towards him –

"So, how are you holding up? Steph said today was some sort of _anniversary_ and that you might be feeling a little bit blue, so I thought I would come across and try to buck you up a bit. I brought my favorite whisky."

Evidently he had and as Dean stood and blinked a bottle of amber single malt was shoved without preamble right into his hand, leaving him to cradle it a little like a baby as he _goldfished_ at his visitor.

What in the hell was going on?

Had everyone in his life that he even vaguely cared about come together without knowing to form a birthday support group, that then showed up one by one fully unbidden to fill his damn home with their overbearing love?

"Dad – ,"

Looking up for what was clearly the first time, the politician finally noted the other people in the room and he responded by pulling his suit jacket a little closer and then clearing his throat,

"Oh, uh, afternoon everyone."

Seth pointed at him,

"Um, this is the mayor."

He sounded about as baffled as the rest of them were, although the middle aged couple both sucked keen little breaths in and then surged across the space like a jittery pair of dogs.

"Oh my goodness, it's _so_ nice to meet you."

"It's an honor, you'll always have my vote you know."

Dean snorted wryly –

It was certainly one way to impress them by having the big hitters of the city turn up, although it probably would have been a far more impressive showing had their unexpected guests not shocked the crap out of _him_ as well.

"Uce?"

Pushing past the short but by no means friendly bodyguards who were helping themselves to hummus and crudités on the sly, Roman drew in to hover close to his brother in case the multiplied numbers proved suddenly too much.

Dean blinked,

"Vince's here."

Roman grunted,

"I know, sorry babe, I opened the door and he just dead set walked right in."

"Figures."

Because that was in essence how their chieftain had made it to the lofty position of the power that he was in, by simply strolling into every setting like he owned it until someone had finally made it all legal that he did. Nor was Stephanie immune to that entitlement, which was clearly some variant form of family _gene_ that pervaded their bodies with a sort of voracity that gave other bloodlines blonde hair or asthma or warts –

Trust the McMahons to have the alleles for _ballsiness_.

Seth slid across with a shake of his head,

"Geez, quite the jamboree you got going on here."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned towards a bodyguard who was _beavering_ his way through the celery poles and waved him back a step like he was at a church picnic and attempting to protect an apple pie from all the wasps.

"Just as long as this is fuckin' _it_ I can handle, no more people."

Seth shrugged,

"Who else would even come?"

He was right of course –

Dean's entire address book was almost without exception crammed into his lounge and chattering like old friends between draining the wine down and nibbling at cucumber and largely having a good time. It wasn't what he had been planning on happening, but in spite of all the chaos the thing was running just fine and so therefore maybe he could start to calm down again and try to take part in it.

 _Ding, dong_.

"Are you fuckin' _kiddin'_ me with this shit?"

His voice rang out loudly across the crowded soiree which had not been an intentional thing and was followed by a strangely expectant sort of silence like the group were all curious as to which new person was coming in.

Seth sighed,

"I'll go."

He turned off into the hallway and in the pause Roman's hand found Dean's shoulder again and kneaded a path right through the tense muscles to prevent any further angry cuss words from tumbling out. One of the bodyguards moved in towards the crudités and in the elongated silence Dean snatched the tray back, earning himself a glare for his troubles that wasn't _quite_ hidden by the big two-tone shades.

Not that he cared.

He was in no mood to be messed with and that only doubled as Seth stepped into view, wearing a facial expression of pure apology and shaking his head,

"Dean, I'm sorry man, I just couldn't say no,"

"No to what?"

There was a squeaking sound behind him and then a lot of huffing like somebody struggling with a load and the gathered crowd fell quiet in pure anticipation as a collection of balloons was suddenly hauled into view.

 _Holy hell_.

Twelve in total and all filled up with helium with their strings and shiny surfaces hiding the man pulling them through, although before he could arrive they got stuck on the door jamb and nearly knocked him over.

"Oh _snickerdoodles_."

Bo.

For the first few seconds that the performance was happening, Dean simply stood and blinked a few times, because it didn't seem plausible that the idiot was there with them, standing in his _home_ holding a bunch of fucking _balloons_.

Just –

What the hell?

Dean glanced at her parents who were looking perplexed as to what was going down, which was honestly mirrored on everyone's faces, including the hungry security nervously fingering their guns. Because the last thing he needed was for his former informant to be shot in the middle of his nice pale rug and then bleed out over his boss and his in-laws. Fortunately Seth swung back around to help and between them they managed to wrestle in the offering whereupon they were released to float their way around the room.

Bo grinned back,

"Detective Ambrose, happy birthday."

Then he flung his arms open.

 _Sweet mother of god_.

In the blink of an eye the copper blonde had been enveloped in a fully formed bear hug that trapped his arms by his sides and therefore made pushing the idiot back off him completely impossible.

Bo started to rock,

"I hope you like balloons, I got you a lot of them to celebrate your special day."

Dean grit his teeth,

"It _isn't_ my birthday."

"Don't be bashful, sure it is, you can't hide it from me."

His big arms unfurled from around the lawman's body but only to rein back and throw out a punch that was clearly meant to be a quirky move of camaraderie but instead hit his shoulder like a damn _horse_ had bucked. Dean stumbled back and crashed into the dresser as the newest of his houseguests swiftly spun around, hands on his hips like he was leading a troop of girl scouts and with a beam of elation,

"Now, who do we have here?"

Ignoring the question of how the idiot had even _half_ known that there was some sort of latent birthday gathering going down, there was also the issue of how he knew the right apartment since Dean sure as _hell_ hadn't been handing his address out. He straightened himself and rubbed his thumping shoulder as a look of pure danger began to form across his gaze.

His jaw grew tighter,

"Dallas, I swear to _god_ man – ,"

Luckily for all of them though his teammates got there first, with Roman clapping his hands to call for quiet while the youngest of his brothers took the lead on the spoken bit, with a cheery looking smile that maintained the bullshit pantomime that the sudden crush of people was totally fine.

Dean snorted.

 _Yeah_.

Like her parents were buying _that_ shit –

Both of them standing rosy cheeked and bewildered in what was clearly a response to more than just the wine and was instead no doubt caused by the big ass passing circus that was clustered tight around them in twill suits and balloons.

Seth cleared his throat,

"Alright folks, thanks for coming but I think it's time _some_ of you were hitting the road."

His eyes darted swiftly towards their boss on the emphasis and mercifully their smoking hot aunt took the hint and reached across to grab her father and pull him towards the hallway,

"Right, okay, come on dad, we've got to do that _thing_ remember?"

Dean blew a breath out.

 _Real subtle chief_.

Nor did the mayor do much to assist her since he merely hauled his brows into the centre of his forehead then grumbled in the baffled sounding tones of a pensioner who had been napping in the sun,

"What thing?"

"The _thing_ dad."

Roman batted the balloons out of the way for them and then shepherded the pair back out into the hall, although Vince's hungry minders each grabbed a paw of carrot sticks that Dean was quite frankly too exhausted to haul back. Before they left the room, Stephanie stopped and reached a hand out, squeezing his arm gently and then smiling,

"Keep the Krug."

Even her old man slapped his cheek way too roughly and then beamed at him fondly,

"You take care son."

Dean nodded back at them, sort of a little dumbstruck because there was a feeling in his stomach that kind of mimicked familial love, which couldn't have been a thing because his boss was not his family and nor was the mayor of the city his surrogate father –

Yet the bloom was still there.

He coughed and shook it off again and with the pair of them gone and the bodyguards with them, there suddenly seemed to be a whole lot more air even if it was somewhat marred by balloon strings hanging overhead.

Bo was still standing there –

Beaming broadly like a newfound puppy and oblivious to the fact that all eyes were tipped on him. He chuckled a little,

"Does anyone have twister?"

Seth grabbed him by the arm,

"I need to see you in the hall."

"Oh, okay, are we lighting the candles?"

Evidently their teammate's answer was swiftly cut off and as their younger brother hauled the idiot from their eyeline the living room hushed and fell quiet again. Or at least as quiet as it was possible to make it with twelve god damn balloons bobbing and squeaking against the walls and colliding in a tinkling sort of noise with the lampshade that his girl had picked out for them two years ago.

 _Her_.

Ouch.

Her parents were standing still holding their glasses and it was clear that neither one of them really knew what to say and Dean could hardly bring himself to look at their faces because he couldn't take the censure –

Not on that of all days.

Beside him Roman scooped up the crudités plate and coughed a little awkwardly,

"I'll go freshen them up."

Evidently he felt like they needed some alone time, although the copper blonde nearly launched himself for the door and suckered around his older brother's ankles to spare him the discomfort or the things they were going to say, although in the end he merely draw a deep breath in and then looked up slowly.

Her mother was smiling,

"You have nice friends."

"I do?"

Her father chuckled,

"I can't believe I met the mayor, you certainly move with important circles in life."

Dean grinned and with it his confidence returned to him, or at least just enough of it to slowly let himself relax and to unwind his tense and tautly held muscles which were starting to complain from being bunched up too tight.

"Uh, I guess, sort of comes with the territory."

From out in the hallway he heard the door slam and the knowledge that it meant that the puppy had left them was a further release.

 _Thank you Seth_.

In fact he was _so_ beginning to unravel that he completely missed the older woman surging in across the room and so startled a little when she suddenly seized his hand up and gazed into his eyes keenly like she was trying to make a point.

"We think about you all the time honey and I'll admit we worry about you a lot – ,"

"Why?"

"Because we felt that you had no one and we didn't like that feeling."

Her father chuckled fondly,

"But it turns out we were wrong, all these people showing up for you just now proved that."

Dean blinked.

 _Huh_.

He guessed that it had and as his teammates appeared in tandem in the doorway he threw them both a kooky little grin that probably bordered on the unhinged or unstable but didn't bother him because it didn't bother _them_.

His brothers –

Leading figures in his cobbled together family and the ones that made him thankful the most and the two he trusted to never again leave him or make him have to go through any more shit alone.

"I'm glad you have people."

Her mother sweetly cupped his cheekbone and turning towards the features felt like looking at _her_. Full of the same bursting pride and compassion and it made him smile wholeheartedly.

"You know what? So am I."

* * *

 **Can you see now why I didn't know how to explain it? Hopefully you liked it though. I figured this was as close as I would get to writing a full on comedy scene and god only knows where the idea came from (too many Pink Panther films?!)**

 **Next week, we have a story from when it was just Dean and Roman with all of our usual requisite hurt Dean but with a slightly darker feel than usual, or at least** _ **I**_ **think so...**


	16. Free Fall

**Alright, so, confession time. This is the last of these oneshots for a while, because I've been working on something else (still Shield related) and also I've started writing another full length one of these, so yeah, but you know these will always come back at some point, so enjoy this one until then!**

 **Sodapop25, Glad you liked the last chapter, it was one of the funnier ones, this one though? Yeah, not so much on the laughter front, but hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway.**

 **Mandy, I had the idea for that last one in my head and then just had to find a way to write it that didn't make it suck! Glad you liked it though, it rapidly turned into one of my favourites and it was actually super fun to do! We go a bit darker for this one though!**

 **Guest, Oh yeah,** _ **way**_ **darker for this one (by my standards anyway). As for your own story? Go for it, but make sure you write it because you want to and have fun with it, otherwise it might end up becoming a drag. You have to write for you and not anybody else. Aww, glad you like my stories!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Had to get old Bo in there somewhere and he would totally bring a brace of unwanted helium balloons with him! But yeah, I just had a sudden hankering for Dean realising that he actually lots of people that love him after all. I've hurt him enough. Speaking of which...**

 **Minnie1015, Must be a thing about hurting people named Dean! Glad Vince caught you by surprise in the last one but he is part of their crazy family too! Already know my idea for the next story but got to plot it out and get writing it first (and finish the thing I'm working on!)**

 **Irishfan62, I don't think it is possible for Bo to change at this point, even if he wanted him to (Dean wants him to though, in quite a big way!) But yeah, he's still the crazy, idiotic little puppy that we all know and love, but now with added balloons!**

 **Wwe21, Yay, glad you liked the last one so much! I don't really know where the idea came from but I suddenly have a vision of Bo holding helium balloons and needed to make it an actual thing. Every story is enhanced by a Bo, that is my general new rule!**

 **Skovko, I kind of threw a bit of everything into that last one, which is probably why I didn't know how to describe it since it was a real old mix. Who wouldn't want a Bo showing up on their not birthday bringing gifts and big unwelcome hugs?!**

 **Cherry619, I figure that a man's man like Vince would recommend drinking his way through a crisis! Plus I figure he also has plenty of bottles of expensive hooch lying around. As for Bo? Well, what else would he bring other than balloons?! Glad you liked it!**

 **Rebel8954, Glad you liked it, it had been too long since we last saw Bo! No more of these for a little while, but I have started a full length one, so hopefully that will be worth the oneshot drought! These will be back though, I promise faithfully!**

 **Hmm, it's been too long since Dean was in real danger, let's change that shall we...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Free Fall**

Really it all boiled down to the fact he was an idiot, which anyone who had known him for even a minute could confirm –

No bones about it.

No arguments on his part.

Dean Ambrose was a numbskull of the highest degree.

In hindsight of course, which was always hugely useful when looking back on things that had gone hopelessly wrong, he should never have accepted the drink in the first place, besides which he knew better than that didn't he?

Maybe not.

Because thirty minutes later and there he was trembling and trying to force his eyes to focus on the phone, which swam before him like a damn apparition and made striking the keys pretty much impossible,

" _C' mon_."

Even to his own ears he sounded fucking _wasted_ which might have been okay if that had been what it was, only the truth of the matter was far more unsettling, which his addled brain knew but couldn't totally figure out. Punching the address book he pulled up a number and managed to push it on the third or fourth try. It rang for a second but then was answered almost instantly and the low but worried tones made him blow out a thankful sigh,

" _Uce, you good_?"

"Nuh, mess'd up b'g time."

Dean's eyelids began to drag like they were hooked up to weights and the sudden wash of tiredness frightened him a little because it wasn't a good thing.

He _needed_ to stay awake.

" _Messed up how_?"

Roman's voice was like honey and it briefly quelled the tremors running through the copper blonde. Partly fuelled by the roofie he figured although the nip in the night air likely didn't help. Not that he knew for a fact it _was_ a roofie but given how he felt it couldn't be a lot else and the anger he felt at having been such an idiot bled through into his consciousness,

"I – I had a drink, should never a' had the fuckin' drink uce, think he put some shit in it."

" _What_?"

"M' fuckin' strung out."

Roman sucked a breath in then paused for a moment to drink in the sentence and steady his nerves, so that when he spoke again his tones were no nonsense and devoid of outright panic.

" _Babe, tell me where you are_."

Dean glanced around –

His whole world was _spinny_ and there was an irritating fluff around the field of his gaze which he lifted a hand to try and brush away again before realizing it was his vision and nothing physically there.

"Oh."

" _Uce_?"

"M' in – m' inan alley or somethin'."

It wasn't the best instruction he could have started with, since there were maybe several hundred of those scattered about, each differing little in terms of their description and layout and how not so appealing they were. Roman however took the bewildered sounding statement in what was probably a very labored stride and simply grumbled in tones of encouragement that were warm and hugely grounding,

" _Mmhmm_ , _anything else_?"

"It's next to a bar – ,"

More useless information although at least he was progressively narrowing things down, although _fuck_ it was hard and it made his head _thunder_ like he was swimming through treacle or trapped below ground. His spine scraped uncomfortably against a rough surface and he startled as it gnawed through the fabric of his shirt, at which point he realized he had slumped back completely and bumped into the tall brick building at his back.

" _Which bar_?"

"I can't – I can't rememb'r, think 's like a _name_ or s'methin', I don't – I dunno."

He was starting to panic because his knees were sort of _trembling_ as if the weight of his body was too much to hold and yet he knew for a fact that under no circumstances could he crumple because that would leave him totally defenceless against _him_.

Dean shook his head.

 _No_.

It couldn't fucking happen and he couldn't _let_ it.

" _Easy uce, I'll get you out, gonna need a few more details first though, there anything around you_?"

Dean blamed himself.

Not three weeks earlier he had been in the hospital in the final days of recovering from a fucking busted _skull_ and yet rather than take his time and chill out on his sofa like a regular person, he had begged for a job and dragged them both into the middle of the shitstorm he was currently trying to haul himself from. A task that was becoming increasingly more difficult as the drugs in his system took over him whole. Inching through his bloodstream and dulling his senses and his limbs and his responsiveness.

 _Yep_.

He was an idiot alright.

" _Uce_?"

He jolted as his brother pressed harder with a definite note of impatience to his voice, because how he was supposed to extract him without directions was a question that neither could answer at that point and made the panic _again_ seize his body.

Dean tried harder,

"I can – can see a light, at th' end of the alley, think 's a nightclub."

Roman exhaled in relief,

" _What's the name_?"

Blue eyes squinted and the policeman stumbled closer, dragging the too thin shirt material across the brick. Really having spent the last ten days undercover in a high flying office had confirmed a pertinent thing and that was the fact that he fucking _hated_ office wear and suits and jackets and the total horror of cufflinks.

 _Ugh_.

In his view they constituted pretty much everything he hated about the corporate world, from the flashing of cash to the looking down on people and the vortex of snobbery –

The rampant sexual abuse as well.

Dean was burning his shirt and suit combo once the mission was over and done and then maybe boogying around the charred embers, like the blue piece of cotton was some ancient blood sacrifice that needed to be despatched to help appease the angry gods.

" _Uce, the name_?"

 _Oh right_.

He shuffled closer and then staggered with a cuss word as he snagged a foot on a piece of loose trash, or maybe the asphalt or possibly a hobo because his senses were fast leaving him,

"F'ck – ,"

" _Babe_?"

"M' alright."

Except that he wasn't and it was fast becoming obvious although the few shaken steps had given him some hope and brought his foggy eyes within proximity of the club sign which was neon and too bright but newly legible,

"Moxley's Den."

Roman blew a breath out,

" _I'm on my way, okay babe_?"

Dean grunted.

Moxley –

He kind of liked that name.

Maybe he would use it sometime on a mission, provided he got out of the one he was _in_ which was by no means a sure thing and was made even sketchier by the fact that there were suddenly only two of them now. Before there had been _three_ including one who was a tech whizz and could have found his location in the blink of an eye but who had managed to completely fuck everything royally by aligning with the devil.

Rollins –

 _Fuck_.

Dean's head hurt merely _thinking_ about it as he flashed back to the moment the chair had knocked him out, launching a bolt of red hot agony through his cranium that had robbed him from the world for nearly five days. In the end it had robbed him of many things besides that, including his happy brotherhood and nearly his life, not to mention his growing relationship because he couldn't even _look_ at his girlfriend these days.

How the hell could he?

Not when he was an idiot and a trusting one at that who would likely put her in harms way and drag her through a life of pain and his mood swings that she didn't deserve since she was too perfect for that. Roman had encouraged him daily to call her, thinking the gap of communication was too long but he was convinced he was doing the right thing.

It was better to drive her off –

Better for _her_ anyway.

None of which would even have _happened_ had their much loved younger brother not driven in the knife and then twisted it in an unflinching metaphorical death stab that had blown apart their taskforce and everything else.

"B'ckstabbin' f'ckin' ass'ole."

" _Huh_?"

Dean blinked,

"Uh, nothin' I jus' – I jus' feel all weirded out and _wiped_ ,"

His legs trembled suddenly and he leant himself back against the bricks again and then watched as bright lights sort of danced across his view before drawing his vision in and making the world darker.

Roman grumbled knowingly down the line,

" _Uce, hold on_."

Dean would have done it too and waited for his brother for as long as it had taken for the big man to have arrived, only the universe it seemed had a different plan in mind for him which announced itself by suddenly calling out across the space.

" _Here_ you are lad."

He jumped like a schoolgirl and the reaction was so violent that he almost dropped his phone, plucking it out of the air with a reaction that sapped most of the limited strength he had left.

 _Damn_.

Rotating towards the voice he held back a grumble at the broadly beaming bastard silhouetted in the door who clattered down the steps with fingers spread in his direction that had no business touching him –

No business _at all_.

Dean tensed,

"B'ck 'ff."

He didn't care about the mission or the carefully built character he had assumed throughout it all because the whole situation seemed dark and so much bigger not to mention more volatile.

The other man smiled,

"Come on now, you've had too much to drink lad, you're just a bit confused, let me take you home."

 _Huh_.

Big old hunk of steaming horseshit _that_ was and well they both knew it though neither said as much. Dean only because he physically couldn't and the smirking asshole businessman because that wasn't how it went and also since creeps rarely openly addressed it or wore it like a badge.

But William Regal _was_ a creep –

King among the creeps and with that overly clipped accent that made it sound like he was a veritable _blue blood_ when instead he was just an egotistical asshole who owned a big cheque book and knew how to suit up. He was also the man their mission was probing in a directive that had come in from the commissioner herself and centred around the misconduct of the mogul who was hovering in front of him and still grinning.

"M' _not_ drunk."

Regal stepped forward,

"Don't be daft boy, of course you are."

Dean skittered back and then almost planted sideways since his feet point blank refused to move in time and he threw out a hand and banged into a dumpster which was easily the most glamorous thing he'd done in a while. Unless of course you counted pissing into a container from beneath the blanket of his hospital bed since he hadn't been able to get up when he had woken and the nurses hadn't let him.

It had been _not_ great.

But still, the whole _drugged up dumpster_ deal in front of him was certainly vying for a worthy second place and his stomach sort of lurched as he heard the man behind him step in a little closer.

Far _too_ close.

"Who are you on the phone to lad?"

Roman –

He had forgotten that his uce was on the end of the line and probably going all sorts of ballistic on hearing what was happening. He raised it to his ear, only the movement took more energy out of him and proved to be almost pitifully slow and it allowed the businessman to simply knock it from his fingers and onto the floor.

Dean frowned,

"F'ck you m'n – ,"

Regal smiled back at him but the expression stopped halfway and then formed into a sneer which burnt a deeply sinister glinting right into the depths of the older man's eyes and hinted at something hideous and twisted, like flick-tailed tabby cat merely toying with its prey.

The mogul chuckled,

"What terrible language, I don't like that filthy mouth of yours, or maybe I _do_."

Dean shook his head –

His legs were like water and he was sinking into the middle of a fast pluming smoke that was billowing up around him and enveloping him fully even as he fought it with everything he had left. His cell phone was lying discarded by his ankle and on the other end the brother who would save him from harm but needed the time to make it to his location.

 _Huh_.

Never would he have figured missing their crappy surveillance van, which was another of the things that had been ripped out from under them given that they were not a special taskforce anymore. Earpieces too were an evident luxury that their newly reduced status couldn't afford and which had forced them into using their cell phones.

 _That_ had worked well.

Regal moved across the space and remembering dully that he was in danger, the copper blonde flinched and threw up his hands, hoping to make fists but only getting them to waist height before the much more sober businessman pushed them back down. His proximity made Dean's stomach turn over but damn it if he couldn't fucking _make_ himself move.

He was helpless –

 _Helpless_.

Had he mentioned he was an _idiot_ who had gone out with the fake boss he was secretly probing for precisely the shit that was about to go down? Because if he _hadn't_ then he needed to do that.

He was an idiot.

There, all done.

Regal grabbed his wrists then pushed in against him and a bolt of sheer panic clambered up through Dean's bones and fired him with a singular sudden burst of energy that exploded in a shove,

"M' warnin' ya, b'ck 'ff, m' a cop."

"Oh is that right?"

Regal was grinning and clearly didn't believe a single word of the line which was actually kind of hurtful in essence because the implication was that the copper blonde did _not_ look the part.

 _Asshole_.

"I am."

Big hands enclosed around him and the second time he had no strength left to push the damn things back off and therefore allowed the businessman to haul him closer in an actual drag that made him pitch forward in a lurch.

"Come along lad, don't worry, I'll see you safe now."

Dean tried to fight it –

Really he did but not only was the other man surprisingly burly but he was also not hampered by being drugged up and so although the policeman spat out slurred swear words and tried to grind his heels in or _any_ fucking thing, it turned out he could do little but let himself get hauled off like a child being marched to his grandparent's house.

"Damn h'nds _'ff_ me – ,"

"Almost there now boy."

Dean's body shuddered.

Had he said _almost there_ and if in fact he had then where the hell was _there_ and what did it mean in terms of what was going down? Looking up answered that question pretty quickly because even through his fogged eyes the copper blonde could see the car. It was a sleek black limousine with all the requisite trappings of a millionaire sexual predator on the prowl and even came complete with a uniformed driver who looked past what was happening and calmly opened up the door.

 _No_.

Dean ground his feet in stubbornly and his momentary rebellion briefly threw the asshole off and pitched them both into an uneven stagger which then deposited the detective with warning to the floor and forced the wind out of his lungs until he spluttered in startled bewilderment,

 _Ouch_.

"F'ck."

A couple walking past on the sidewalk beyond the alley stopped for a second and turned a worried look his way, only before he could form the words to call out to them or reach for their help, the businessman was back again, and hooking what felt like angry hands beneath Dean's shoulders to haul him up onto his ass.

Regal grinned at the folks,

"Had a little too much at the bar tonight, it's alright though, I'm taking him home."

Dean opened his mouth but nothing audible came out of it because his brain was suddenly too fucked to think of actual words and so all that came out were bitter little mumbles as the couple nodded uncertainly and then walked away.

 _Crap_.

Regal leant in towards his ear,

"You will regret that."

Then he hauled him towards the car and forced his limp body in, pushing his addled victim until Dean toppled forwards and landed in a dead flop on the leather backseat, which bounced beneath his body but not very readily and so therefore drove the air clean out of him –

Again.

His eyelids were heavy and his limbs felt like concrete and so he lay there in a stupor not sure _what_ to think or even convinced that he wasn't simply dreaming and that the whole thing was a nightmare and not happening at all. Regal jumping in and almost sitting on his ankles blew that pretty theory away from him though, as the dulled but _still there_ pain juddered up through his body in a hiss of discomfort.

Then the door slammed.

"Drive."

Despite the fact that they were _kidnapping_ someone, there were no screaming tires or smoke trails left behind and instead the sleek ride simply pulled from the kerbside and slid into the traffic like they were heading home for the night.

Maybe they were.

Dean wracked his addled brainstem and fought through the fog to work out where that home might be, because the asshole who had drugged him had _several_ different places where he might take a person to –

He shuddered.

Do _what_ precisely?

In taking the case on the details had been scanty since there hadn't been a real complaint as such, instead merely rumblings of sordid behaviour and a string of young interns who had been used and then paid off. Regal hadn't climbed to the top of the ladder by being an incautious idiot after all and his lawyers had written up contracts and papers that had sealed the poor victims up pretty much from head to toe.

It was why their two man unit had been called on to catch him red handed –

Not quite _that_ red-handed though.

Dean grumbled crossly then tried to push upright but damn it if his arm muscles wouldn't respond. Besides which just the very _minor_ shift in trajectory made his fogged vision and leaden head fucking roll, like he was standing on the deck of a ship in a fierce storm and trying not to tumble right into the drink while the captain calmly sailed them into rough waters without even flinching.

Helplessness was not his friend.

He grumbled again,

"R'man – ,"

Because _that_ was his salvation and so he needed to stay awake until his bigger brother came and then he could sit back and let his uce do the grunt work of arresting the asshole businessman and likely punching him in the face.

But where was his best friend meant to start looking?

He was behind them already by ten minutes or so, which was _also_ the younger man's genius decision because he'd honestly thought he had things under control, so had cheerily waved his older brother home again with the promise that if anything had gone wrong he would call. Back then it hadn't been a likely scenario since he'd been working undercover in the office without a rub, besides which the staff had been working late on something and so he'd had people around him –

Regal had _then_ suggested drinks.

 _Fuck_.

Dean's brain screamed the word at him fiercely because _that_ was the point when it felt he should have known. His senses should have tingled the minute he got down there to find that there was nobody else at the bar and that the rest of the team seemed to still be in the bullpen and that _he_ alone was the person the boss had summoned along.

Well, okay –

He _had_ known it was shifty, but then the guy had got a big old file of charts and spreadsheets out, like they were genuinely going to discuss his boring work shit and the copper blonde had fallen for it hook, line and all. He had sat back, nodded and then sipped on his vodka liked a god damn amateur.

It physically hurt.

Then again maybe it wasn't his _fault_ as such –

Perhaps it was the skull fracture coming into play and the fact that he had surely lost a big hunk of brain cells from the chair shot he had taken on that fateful fucking day. More likely though it was his keenness to get their newest case solved and to therefore prove that he hadn't missed a step and that neither he nor his ever faithful big dog needed their former third man –

 _Rollins_.

He grunted,

" _Ugh_ – ,"

"Hmm, what was that lad?"

Dean bristled on instinct.

 _Lad_.

Like he needed to be pissed off any _more_ with cutesy fucking nicknames and unsettling familiarities that sat directly at odds with the messed up shit going down. Dean turned his head and squinted up through the spotlights that were placed up high in the lining of the car and then glared at his captor, his blue eyes glinting as he formed the only two words he could still spit out,

"F'ck y'."

Regal grinned,

"Other way round hopefully."

Dean's stomach turned over and he shut his eyes again, because _shit_ was he ever in serious damn trouble of a kind he had never had to face down before. It clung to his throat and his gut and his heartbeat and screamed at him in horror, but he was still too dazed to think and so the knowledge lightly lingered like a spectre in the background without fully forming but ever present nonetheless. He knew but he didn't know and –

Roman.

He _needed_ big dog.

Then the car slung round a corner and he apparently passed out.

He woke to the sensation of someone trying to lift him, although maybe _lift_ was too nice of a word because really he was sort of being _hauled_ across the seating like a dead fucking body or perhaps a bag of spuds. In fact, for a second he couldn't even place what was happening or where he was far less what had gone down although gradually weird sort of _flashes_ came back to him.

More worrying however was the fact he couldn't move.

Not even slightly.

He was utterly powerless which made it hard for his captor to heave him up since he was by no means small in any sense of the vernacular.

Dean blinked vaguely –

 _Captor_?

Regal.

It came back in a flood and with it his body sort of stiffened very mildly and made it even harder to haul his limp form from the car, although it clued in the businessman to his being awake again and the clipped foreign tones grumbled next to his ear,

"Glad to see you're awake again sunshine, now let's retire to somewhere more _comfortable_ , hmm?"

Dean responded heatedly by telling him to go screw himself except that he _didn't_ because not even his lips would move and had seemed to join the rest of his body in a weird suspended feeling drug induced world. His head and his brain spun round and round in circles and snatched away his thoughts before the damn things could form.

He was so confused and completely bewildered –

So the cold night air was like a slap to the face and made him grunt and throw his head backwards as the businessman finally got him out onto the ground, where he stood in a slump hung clean over the man's shoulder and hating the proximity.

Regal waved a hand,

"Get the door."

Evidently he wasn't addressing his victim, since the copper blonde couldn't have _got_ a thing if he'd tried and instead it was the driver that darted swiftly past them and towards the soaring building rising up to their side.

Dean blinked.

Even through his addlement he knew it because the lawman instincts in him would never say die and he mumbled the name out, or at the very least he _tried_ to, since he had read it about a million times in the case notes and police file.

"Queensb'ry – ,"

Regal snorted, seeming amused by it or perhaps his prey's attempt at trying to speak or else one of a trillion fucking reasons that might made an out and out pervert amused, but he nodded regardless then clarified the statement as he dragged the drooping captive,

"The Queensbury, that's right, my new hotel, I thought you might like to see her."

"Nuh, m' a cop – ,"

It was a pretty redundant point, but basically about the only damn sentence that Dean's bewildered brain and lips could work together to get out and so he tried them again to another burst of laughter like he was utterly hilarious,

"Alright lad, of course you are."

"Mean 't – ,"

"Shush now, don't draw attention."

There was a bright flood of light then he was dragged in through a doorway and into a harsh and pretty starkly lit hall that comprised of a stairwell and a steel elevator that appeared to be waiting. Regal nodded to his chauffeur. Or maybe that wasn't the job he was hired for and instead his major brief was helping to _fucking_ kidnap folk so that his warped ass employer could drug them to the brim-full and then have his wicked way with them.

Dean shuddered again.

"Thank you, wait outside, I'll call when I need you."

His driver nodded then sauntered away, leaving the elevators doors to ping brightly then open like the ultimate fucking entrance to hell. Dean couldn't even damn well grind his poor feet in because nothing about him seemed to work and blinking sluggish eyes he suddenly realized that his head was pillowed down on the businessman's chest.

 _Roman, come on_ –

Where the hell was he?

Regal smoothed his hair back and hissed greedily,

"Nearly there."

By which it turned out the asshole meant the penthouse to which he seemingly had unlimited access to, in spite of also owning a very nice residence on the upper west side which was his day to day home. His new hotel was clearly the playground and that became more clear as he push in through the door and hauled the heavy copper blonde along with him –

Dean felt like a fucking mannequin or doll.

His head was swimming and he felt completely nauseous and hot and sweaty but also icy all at once. In the neighborhood he had been raised in, drugs were pretty common and he had seen the effects that they could have a million times and also in his teens years had _felt_ them one or two times but the milder and very much chosen _buzzy_ ones.

Regal's shit was no good for his system.

Nor his head.

Nor his _heart_ which was pounding in his chest and the only real part of him that therefore seemed physically to be still working at all.

The penthouse was plush and typically modern, with big picture windows and white tones around the place, or at least that's what it seemed like through the dulling field of vision, which he couldn't let happen because he _had_ to stay awake and that thought drove him to a burst of conscious thinking that coincided with Regal dropping him down onto the bed, which bounded underneath him and was so damn luxurious that he nearly gave up and passed out right there.

 _No_.

Roman –

Roman needed time to get there.

His face sunk down right into the blankets and then sat there so heavily that he could barely even move and nor could up he summon the strength to roll his body or to use his lead weight arms to lever himself up. His chest sort of tightened as the air flow was constricted and briefly he thought he might suffocate instead, except then rough hands sort of _flipped_ him clean over and left him blinking into the face that was hanging over his.

Regal cupped his cheek,

"I'm going to have a shower and fresh up a bit, don't go anywhere."

Yeah –

 _Real_ funny.

But thankfully he meant it because the hand left his face and the weird mogul clambered off, leaving Dean free from his ominous feeling presence and alone in the room as the water jets flicked on. In theory it was his chance to get out of there and his senses screamed with it too.

 _Run, get away_.

But once again the businessman knew what he was doing and so whatever damn drugs he had put into the vodka had taken hold completely and were succeeding at their job in making him totally prone and helpless.

Even _swallowing_ felt like a mammoth fucking task.

His mouth was dry and so were his eyeballs as he blinked around the space and tried to clear away the fuzz. Blue eyes slid over the room unseeing and frankly had a troupe of showgirls cancanned past him or a herd of fucking elephants then he wouldn't have had a clue, although he _did_ slowly notice the item on the nightstand about two feet from his fingers.

Was that –

 _Yes_.

A phone.

In reality of course having a handset in the bedroom was by no means an unlikely situation at all, but in his damaged state of mind it might have well have been a rainbow complete with green-clad leprechaun and overflowing pot of gold. If he could get to it, then he could call his uso and let the big man know without a doubt where he was.

He twisted towards it –

It got him precisely nowhere and so he grit his teeth together and tried his best again, focusing real hard on trying to feel his fingers and force his body to respond to the command which it actually did but sort of pathetically since as he stretched his arm out he just sort of rolled instead. Still, it brought him in closer to the handset and again his ghosted his weary fingers out, each one feeling like it was made of molten metal that was cooling and getting harder with every second that passed.

 _Come on_.

He grunted through the physical exertion and then felt his heart hitch as his tips brushed across the phone, although even as he did he could feel his head sinking and trying to pull him back into the blackness of the abyss.

 _Come on, fucking come on_.

It rocked in its holster and then he got a hand to it –

His _actual hand_ and he was right in the process of hooking it closer when a voice and a burst of humid steam killed the mood, accompanied by what sounded like a wry sort of chuckle mixed together with annoyance,

"Now then, none of that lad."

The phone was pushed away and Dean felt his hope vanish, along with the last reserves of energy he had, along with the best part of his greater awareness because the drug haze was getting stronger until he could feel himself slip.

"Don' – ,"

It was very little more than a murmur and then tailed off into a series of tiny frustrated sounds that Regal evidently found charming, or else weirdly alluring because he clambered up onto the bed. His hips were clad in a towel but nothing more than that and he grinned like a demon as he straddled Dean's waist.

Blue eyes blinked sluggishly.

Dean had to get out of it.

But how when he couldn't fucking move or even think?

In order to prove that point, his head spun fiercely, like he was taking his turn on some imaginary tilt-o-whirl and it took away his hearing and replaced it with whistling and made everything turn black for a second or two.

 _Whoa_.

Regal's hands were busy at his belt buckle and then at the button at the top of his jeans, which he had precious little damn trouble in unhooking before moving towards the zipper.

"Nuh – ,"

Dean tried to push him off, only his hands which were usually so full of life and energy were little more than butterflies flitting uselessly around and were easily pushed off or ignored altogether. Dean gulped, his head spun and he prepared to lose consciousness and more than likely wake to a land that was new and in which he didn't feel like such of an alpha because how the hell could he? How could he stop things and save himself from danger when he fucking couldn't _move_?

"Easy lad, I know what I'm doing."

Then the door burst off its hinges –

Right out of _nowhere_ and in a hail of whitewashed splinters of woodwork as the whole damn frame blew part way off the wall to reveal a furious, long-haired, burly figure that even through the drug haze was recognizable at once. Dean snorted groggily while his captor merely gaped a bit, evidently bewildered,

"What the _hell_ – who are you?"

Roman glared back at him, his gun raising swiftly as he drank the scene in with a singular blink and then let the tableau sort of _super charge_ his anger which had already been pretty much pulsating as it was and had been since the phone call and the tones of confusion mixed with very mild panic,

 _M' fuckin' strung out_.

Even worse though had been sudden lack of speaking, followed by the muffled sound of voices in the back and a clatter as the cell had dropped down to the concrete where Roman had then found it ten minutes after that. Dean had not been with it. He had _needed_ to find his brother and despite having done that the sheer terror remained fierce. Not much helped by what appeared to be happening and it made his voice rumbly and murderous,

"Get away from him."

In trying to track down where his best friend had been taken, the policeman had raced breathlessly to several different spots, including the office where Dean had been working and even the businessman's opulent house. The brand new hotel had been pretty much his last option but the beautiful relief was tempered by something else.

Unease.

Lots of it and with very good reason because what was going down was not their usual type of shit. Regal was knelt on the bed in a bath towel and straddling a figure crumpled helpless on the sheets. A figure which just so _happened_ to be his teammate and brother and made him sorely tempted to pull the trigger right there. Dean seemed to be almost totally out of it, in a way that the bigger man had never seen before and was laid on his back pretty much like he'd been dropped there and not moving a muscle.

Dean was never still.

His face was tipped in Roman's direction but sort of pillowed heavily into the sheets, like simply keeping his skull tilted was too hard for him, which meant that his most visible feature was his hair, that looked scruffy as usual but also sort of _messed up_ like someone had been ruffling it or dragging him around and knowing that it was the latter of those options reinforced the Big Dog's sentiments.

"You son of a bitch, I said get away from him, _now_."

He couldn't have made the sentence any clearer and yet the businessman continued to blink in bafflement across the space, like maybe he thought he was actually dreaming.

"This is a private – ,"

Roman bellowed,

" _Get off the bed_."

It rattled around the room and made the perverse foreign mogul actually jolt a little in shock but far more noticeably made a pair of blue eyes roll up at him from where they were sluggishly pressed in towards the sheets. Dean was evidently only there partly and losing the battle to keep himself alert. Roman raised the gun just a fraction or two higher and the businessman put his hands up swiftly,

"Alright, look there's a safe in the corner, you can have the combination – ,"

"This ain't a heist, I'm a cop."

Regal frowned,

"You – you're a policeman?"

Roman could see the literal moment he worked it out and put the assorted puzzle pieces together like a child learning their shapes then realizing they had fucked up. The pervert glanced down at Dean on the comforter and then back up again with pallor on his face.

 _Oh shit_.

Roman smirked,

"That's right asshole, now get the hell off him before I shoot you and don't think that I won't."

He would have done too and not lost sleep about it since the man sat in front of him had been about to hurt his friend. His drugged up and totally helpless little brother who could barely even _blink_ far less makes moves to defend himself. Regal clambered quickly from the mattress then nearly lost his tiny covering towel and was halfway through the process of hastily re-wrapping it when the big man paced towards him and wrapped big hands around his neck.

"What the – ,"

Roman didn't let him get the words out and instead shoved him backwards and into the wall. It meant that the towel dropped down around his ankles, but the detective was too furious to be much bothered at all.

"You god damn _son of a bitch_."

"Now wait – ,"

But it was pointless because Roman had rarely ever _been_ so pissed off and with a churn of emotions that was fuelled by almost everything, from the kidnap and near assaulting to Seth having left. Because that was the last time he had felt so worried and yet so powerless to _help_ his crazy copper blonde friend –

Back when he had been sat in the hospital watching his unconscious comrade and the wrapped bandages around his head. At some points he had feared that Dean would _never_ wake up or would be maybe irreparably damaged if he did, which was why he had been so relieved by his recovery and had then vowed never to let him come to harm again. Regal had almost blown that promise and mild choking therefore was a punishment for that.

Roman growled,

"What the hell did you give him? _Answer me_."

"N-nothing."

"I'm only gonna ask your ass one more time."

Regal sort of faltered for a moment which was probably down to a number of things, up to and including the fact that he was naked with a hand around his throat and a gun at his head. Possibly in his entire existence he had never been as scared as he was right there and Roman couldn't help but like causing the anguish because he needed some damn retribution for Dean, not to mention the multiple other people the businessman had misused,

"It – it was just one pill, absolutely harmless."

"Does that look god damn _harmless_ to you?"

Roman swung the bastard round by his windpipe and then pointed him in the direction of the bed. Dean was still sprawled and possibly unconscious and the sight of it made his entire body tense.

 _Shit_.

Holstering his gun, Roman reached for his handcuffs which – now they were normal cops again – he had tucked across his belt. Regal was still standing in the vice grip in front of him and so bringing the hands round and snapping on the shackles was thankfully a pretty damn simple thing. Before he tightened the second one however, he first dragged the oversexed man from the room and propelled him into the still steaming bathroom towards the handles of the tub which he looped the binds around. No _way_ was he having him in the same room that Dean was, not to glower at his _nearly_ victim or admire his handiwork.

Regal blinked at him,

"I need to call my lawyer."

Roman grunted,

"You'll get your damn chance."

Then, once he was sure the shackles were tightened hard enough, he spun from the room and banged shut the door. Frankly it was a miracle that the asshole was still breathing since Roman had been tempted to murder him or worse and what was more the screwed up businessman _deserved_ it for trying to –

He shuddered then chose not to voice the word, instead merely crossing the sprawling penthouse bedroom and ducking in low towards the figure on the sheets.

"Uce?"

He ghosted a hand across the forehead, brushing back some of the unruly hair and dying more than he would admit to on the inside because his brother's familiar blue eyes were tightly closed and therefore scarily close to how they had been when his skull had been cracked and he'd been hooked to monitors and drugs.

Roman blew a breath out,

"Come on babe, wake up now."

His fingers began to massage the tangled copper strands and were rewarded with a tiny little unhappy mumble and then a flicker of azure,

"Wha – ,"

Dean's hand jerked up and then tried to bend and lift higher at the elbow in a clear defensive move to push whoever it was away and it broke Roman's heart as much as it relieved it because his brother still thought he was being set upon. He shushed him gently,

"Hey, it's just me uce, alright, I gotcha, I gotcha now babe."

"R'man?"

"Uh huh."

Bewildered eyes travelled upwards and then lingered semi sort of hesitantly on his face, like maybe he was actually Regal in a Roman mask and just trying another angle to get his victim to give up. The look lasted maybe a couple of seconds and then Dean snorted roughly in confirmation,

"R'man."

His orbs fluttered shut again in evident exhaustion and in the moment he looked so much like a tiny little baby that the bigger man's father instincts started to run wild, mixing with his already overly pumping big brother ones until the only thing he could focus on was making the copper blonde okay. He rubbed his knuckles against the red hot cheeks soothingly and blew out a breath of total and utter relief.

"You're okay."

"M' tir'd, eyes h'rt."

Roman reached over across the bedspread and flipped the heavy comforter across his fallen friend, tucking it in up right around his neckline and then murmuring gently,

"It's okay uce,"

"Wan' my g'rl, is – is she h're yet?"

Roman grunted a little,

"No, she's not here babe, but you can call her when you wake up okay man? You just shut your eyes now, you're fine."

Dean sighed heavily in response to the statement and then twisted himself into the blankets like a bug that was trying to seal itself off for hibernation, but he seemed happy to do it with his older brother around and a tiny little smile slid over his features that weirdly made everything seem right in the world. Especially given that it _could_ have been awful that Roman not gotten there –

But it was okay, he had.

"Sleep uce, I'm 'a be here."

He wasn't going anywhere and even when the backup team arrived in the penthouse some twenty minutes later to lead Regal away and start their hunt for any extra evidence, Roman stayed unmoving beside his teammate on the bed, not letting him out of his sight for a moment and prepared to park his ass there for as long as it took.

He had already managed to lose one brother –

The other one was _not_ going to go the same way.

* * *

 **Okay, so sometime within the next two months, I would like to get another full length story in this universe up and then I can come back to these oneshots if you still want them (don't want people getting AU fatigue!) so keep your eyes peeled for the 3rd part in the trilogy and I'll see you there!**

 **Thank you so much for your reviews x**


	17. Turn The Paige

**Well, here we are again then folks. We've had kind of a big gap, but I now have a WHOLE LOT of these coming your way. Back to posting every Monday so keep it in your diaries!**

 **First up (since I left you all with a Dean/Roman number) I'm balancing that out with a Dean/Seth. All three of them will be back next time, but in the meantime...as ever…**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Turn The Paige**

Dean curled his lip up and then blew out a grumble as the heavy tones of Def Leppard began to blare throughout the bar, because really?

Pour Some Sugar On Me?

 _Really_?

It was like every bad strip club cliché rolled into one, but on the plus side at least it matched with the look of the place because everything about the way-too-heady interior was like it had been styled from an eighties movie set, from the honest to goodness red tiger print carpet to the sleek long bar lit up from beneath and which carried right through to the main stage and central stripper pole and the few smaller podiums scattered loosely beyond that. Even the _customers_ were bad imitations of the type of leering losers a first timer might expect, considering that they were either slightly sweaty looking loners or completely hammered businessmen stepping out on their wives.

Not that the strippers themselves were any better.

Oh –

 _Exotic performers_.

Dean was supposed to call them that since _strippers_ had at some point become too offensive to the legion of working women who shook their naked breasts about and who seemingly wanted to leave behind the stigma of their profession as being something that was tasteless and for the lower class. Dean took a sip from his tumbler then bit a snort back as a hollow eyed blonde in thigh high boots tottered out and then started to rock her hips back and forwards which was by far the _least_ exotic thing he had ever seen in his whole life.

Beside him a paunchy man who had pocketed his wedding ring hollered his approval,

"Whoo, yeah – shake it girl."

His poor wife was probably back home baking a casserole and patiently waiting for her husband to turn up while her wasted beloved bellowed comments at strippers and formulated an excuse about his business meeting running long.

Oops, not strippers.

 _Exotic performers_ –

Even when pretending to have sex with thin air.

Blowing another snort out but trying to conceal it since he was supposed to be playing the hammered sleazeball part himself, Dean let his blue eyes slide away from the spectacle and instead turned his attentions to the long clustered bar. Behind the bobbing heads of the skeevy looking patrons there were several female staff members bustling about, but he kept his focus tied to one of them in particular since she was the reason for his having to be there at all.

Paige.

No last name because she hadn't cared to offer one but then she hadn't really needed to since the kid stood out for miles.

In terms of her looks she was quirkier than the others who were big buxom blondes with inflatable breasts. Because instead of the false smiles and overly tanned skin tones, she was kind of sullen faced and _vampirically_ pale with long black hair and lashings of eye makeup that offset the brightness of her preferred lipstick shade and on top of all of that she was young and kind of little in the fragile looking way that the clientele seemed to like.

Not that the kid was a pushover exactly –

Far fucking from it, but then neither was she all big and tough and so when she suddenly seemed to freeze up from out of nowhere with one hand on the beer tap and her brown eyes wide, the lawman turned and narrowed his focus to the stairway that led back up out onto the street.

Huh?

He laid one hand across his trusty hidden holster and then looked for the problem.

Four men had wandered in and were stood on the threshold clearly looking for someone but with the type of easy confidence that tended to cause alarm since each of them was slick haired and hellaciously brawny and in the sort of business suits that high rollers liked to buy, but which were _also_ favored by those whose business was of the more illegal and organized kind.

For a second they continued to scrutinize the bar patrons with a burning intensity that made Dean tighten up his grip but which then suddenly tapered off as they spotted someone in the corner holding a booth and waving to them. In return the four men stopped looking so broody and instead burst out with loud whoops and cheers and charged towards their buddy to bust his chops for having left them or else for having picked out such a terrible titty bar.

 _Shitstorm averted_.

However Paige was still blinking in what was obviously a continuing measure of alarm and it made her pour way too much beer into a beaker which then overflowed and made her spit a curse out,

"Damn."

Evidently the kid was still pretty rattled and in response to it Dean threw his remaining soda back and then held up his hand in a call for a waitress which she quickly responded to by busting across and letting her foreign tones fall out loosely and more casually than she felt,

"You want a refill on that?"

Dean leaned forward to hand his empty glass back then actually thanked the rock gods for the Def Leppard blast and the fact that the management weren't concerned about hearing loss.

He kept his question short and to the point,

"Not them?"

Paige blinked briefly and her eyes lifted upwards to the new group of men still carousing in the booth, before shaking her head and looking borderline embarrassed.

"No, I thought _maybe_ – but no – not them."

"You sure 'bout that?"

Brown eyes flashed towards him,

"Uh _yeah_ I'm fucking sure."

Dean blinked back at her for a beat and then held both of his hands up in surrender because she was honestly one of the most angry women he'd ever met, which was saying something and _then_ some because he had met killers and screw loose black widows and that sort of thing. Not that he could blame the kid too much for being terse though because she _had_ witnessed a mafia killing ten days before and had then been assigned their team for protection in case the band of murderers had turned up to knock her off.

It was probably enough to make anyone fractious and horny too apparently.

"Um, where's Seth?"

"Huh?"

"Is he – uh – is he like, _coming back_ or whatever?"

Dean nodded,

"Next shift, should be here any minute, probably out there now brushin' his hair an' that crap."

"Oh, okay cool."

"It is?"

Paige shrugged back at him and then let loose a surprisingly feminine blush which on a pale face like hers stood out like a lighthouse as she bit her bottom lip and caught her piercing with a crack.

"Uh, yeah, I mean it's cool having you watching over me – all _three_ of you guys."

But especially Seth.

Because while the black haired waitress didn't say that exactly, she didn't really _have_ to since it had been obvious from the start and in the way she had batted her overly mascaraed lashes whenever their little brother had been anywhere around and also in the way she stopped swearing for a second and became sort of _girly_ when their tech man showed up.

Dean grunted a little to himself in amusement.

His teammate deserved a relationship at last considering that since he had been released from the big house he had only a few had brief liaisons at best and probably saw himself as damaged goods or that bullshit as a result of one bad choice four long years before. Besides, even if the pair of them hooked up only one or two times then it was better than nothing and would help them both right?

Dean concluded the answer was a _yes_ and so decided to make it happen.

"He's single by the way."

"Uh, I – ,"

"Real catch too because he eats like _super_ healthy which is why he's out here lookin' all kinda ripped. Freakin' loyal too, like a labrador or somethin' except for the time he hit me over the head and sorta broke my skull, but that's basically forgotten, besides his parents were bein' _threatened_ so he had to try an' kill me because he had no freakin' choice."

Paige blinked back and then repeated her clueless syllable,

"Uh – ,"

 _Oh fuck_.

He had overbaked his sell and in the process let slip about the head fracturing incident, which he figured that his brother would have preferred had stayed buried since mentioning the lengths and brutality of his betrayal was not a brilliant way to begin championing his cause.

Dean cleared his throat and then tried to make things better,

"Um, look I didn't mean – ,"

But his sentence fast stalled because the blonde in the boots who had been humping the stripper pole chose that exact moment to launch from her perch and take to the floor in the hunt for a participant, which for some unknown reason then landed on him and not for the first time Dean cursed his boyish handsomeness and his bright blue eyes and soft copper blonde locks.

"Hey there big boy, looking for some action?"

Dean lifted a hand up to halt her crappy flow but was caught by surprise when she batted it off again then began to clamber up him like some sort of mountain goat,

"Whoa – ,"

In spite of the long boots she moved pretty readily and in time to the continuous cheesy rock backbeat too and before he could blink she was straddling his body with her hands on his chest and his face half in her breasts.

 _Shit_.

Dean hunkered back into the fabric of his tub chair and then tried his level best to paint on a smile, because otherwise he would have looked like a rabbit in the headlights or possibly like he was about to physically hurl and which would _not_ have helped his undercover persona of man-in-titty-bar-looking-to-have-a-fun-time since launching up hysterically was not very snappy and would likely have planted the stripper on the floor.

Oops.

 _Exotic_ –

Oh forget it.

He hissed as her bright red nails pressed hard through his shirt to anchor herself in place as her hips began to rock, in a _backwards forwards_ motion that was meant to be sexy but instead made him feel _beyond_ fucking uncomfortable and was then made far worse when she flicked her hair back and basically slapped him clean across the face with it in a move that triggered an irate bark,

"Fuck."

"Something wrong baby?"

Her hands curled around him and looped in a circle to cup the back of his neck and he tensed as her fingers teased the tangle of his hairline because that was a move that his own girl had loved and a touch that in response he had always melted into since it had meant her being there sat safe in his lap and being able to wrap big protective arms around her to make sure she never fell or lost her balance or even _left_.

His blue eyes slid closed and he lost himself in the memory and let his hands move up to steady the bumping hips and for a moment there was no music or sleazy patrons or strippers –

Instead there was only his fiancé and him.

"Dean?"

"Huh?"

He blinked up suddenly and unhappily found himself back in the tawdry room with the peroxide blonde woman who was _not_ his fiancé still pretend-humping him and tossing her hair around. Evidently at some point she had also started moaning like the clothing to clothing contact was simply too much and although he hadn't heard the noises in his vision in the real world they were wild and ten billion times too loud.

Nor was that the worst fucking part of it.

Seth was staring back at him from a few feet away and full on _gaping_ like he couldn't believe what he was seeing and which was hardly surprising considering the scene.

 _Shit._

 _Holy crap_.

Betrayal burst hot through him as he realized that his hands were on _another fucking girl_ and that therefore he was pretty much cheating on his fiancé because regardless of the fact that she was no longer with him his connection to her was still impossibly real and there were moments when he felt like she was there somehow anyway, keeping herself close and making sure he was okay. Probably the last thing she would have wanted to see then was the love of her life being rutted by a skank and knowing it and feeling her sudden unhappiness, Dean let his hands fall and then tried to push the blonde back.

"Stop – ,"

He bit the command out a little breathlessly but also with undertones of warning as well because he _had_ to get her writhing body away from him and preferably before he completely freaked out.

In response to him however she pressed her nails in further.

"You want it a little rougher?"

"I want you to back up – ,"

"Come on, I can show you a really good time here."

Dean exploded,

"I said get the fuck _off_."

His bellow was accompanied by him seizing her skinny wrist up and then forcefully unwinding her hold on his neck, before using his grip to lever her backwards so that she sort of _slithered_ off him and then stumbled shakily back but wearing a look of such complete and utter outrage that for a minute Dean thought she might feasibly explode since she probably wasn't used to being physically rejected in her line of work.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I – ,"

"Fucking psychopath."

Dean opened his mouth to counter but instead found it suddenly filled with a gallon of cheap hooch as the buxom blonde reached over to the table of the businessman and then seized up his tumbler before tossing the contents across and with an accuracy that he frankly would never have credited her for but which had obviously been honed to perfection throughout her life. Rum and cola trickled over his features and he coughed out a bead of it then tried to wipe his eyes, as every last face in the bar turned to look at him and which blew his undercover stint totally to hell.

"Crap."

"Hey you okay man?"

Seth was hustling towards him with a look of brotherly concern on his face and in response to it Dean shook more hooch from his wet bangs then snorted back wryly,

"Oh yeah, nothin' but good times."

His heart was still pounding in his chest pretty hard though but not in response to the humiliation or the shock but instead because his body nearly always threw a bitch fit whenever his mind strayed too long and hard on _her,_ since the pain was still so crushing that it basically took over him and in a totally warped way he fucking hoped it always _would_ because otherwise it would mean he'd stopped loving her or something or that his brain had moved on.

Nope.

Not happening _at all_.

In the time it took his brother to turn up beside him the booze had begun to leak onto his shirt and Paige blew a breath out from behind them on seeing it and then turned towards the bar,

"I'll fetch some paper towels."

Seth however was characteristically more implicit,

"What the hell _was_ that?"

"Uh – ,"

Dean wasn't too sure and in hindsight felt stupid for having freaked out about it but at the same time could _not_ hold back his sense of betrayal and the mental image of feeling her rutting against him and the fact that it had been starting to stoke something _down there_.

Bad fiancé.

He was a bad, bad fiancé.

"Dean?"

"I thought – I thought it was _her_."

"Her?"

Seth blinked back at him in total bewilderment and then took a second to let the sentence compute, but which fitted him perfectly since he spent so much time with technology that it seemed only fitting he had turned into a machine as well and was therefore likely running through tiny lines of binary or had frozen and was in need of a kick or a reboot.

Realization when it hit shook him bodily because the moment it clicked his head rocked back,

 _Ohhhh_.

Dean shrugged awkwardly,

"But – like – only for a second because no freakin' way is that stripper like my girl, I mean, her breasts are too big an' not real an' kinda _plastic_ and her hair is too long an' her body is sorta _off_ besides, those fingernails of hers are like _talons_ so it was like being humped by bald eagle y' know?"

Seth snorted loosely,

"Want me to put that in the feedback?"

His straight laced humor briefly lit up the mood and Dean responded by quirking his lips up and even laughing a little before the shame swept back in and resumed its relentless sort of _chewing_ at his insides and the same loaded whisper.

Bad fiancé.

Dean lowered his head into his hands with a grumble,

"I fuckin' betrayed her right?"

Seth frowned at him,

"Huh?"

Behind them the blonde that had been fuming seconds earlier and tossing booze around had pasted back on her smile and then shimmied across to the corner booth of newcomers who had freaked out their witness five minutes before and who were far more happy to see her than _he_ had been since they were already trying to shunt bills into her bra.

Dean waved a hand towards her regretfully,

"Me fuckin' touchin' her up or whatever – like – I totally betrayed my fuckin' girl right? Because it feels like I really screwed up here or somethin' an' my palms are all sweaty an' – ,"

Seth butt in,

" _Hey_."

Dean blinked up with a surprised little head snap because the word had been loud and surprisingly harsh but on the plus side at least it managed to cut in through his rambling which was clearly what had been the much hoped for result.

"Come on cut it out man, you've done nothing wrong here."

"But I had my hands on her – ,"

" _She_ came onto _you_."

"But – ,"

"Did you invite her over?"

"No."

"Did you ask her to sit on you?"

Dean baulked,

" _Fuck_ no."

In response to his obvious look of fast building nausea, his little brother promptly threw both his hands wide and then windmilled them a little like he was some type of fledgling peeping out over the nest edge and preparing to take flight, but which instead was more a representation of the summary which he offered succinctly with a fortifying nod,

"Okay so like I said, you've done nothing wrong here, besides are you _kidding_ me? Your girl would have _loved_ this. If she were here now she'd be laughing her ass off and we both fucking know it."

Huh.

Maybe he was right.

Back when he had met his fiancé for the first time it had been as a result of a hairbrained plan he'd had, which had seen him trying to stop a getaway car of all things by stepping in front of it and holding out a hand. Bizarrely enough it hadn't worked out for him and he had been forced to throw himself into a pile of trash, which at the time had seemed better than flipping up over the hood of it and breaking every bone know to freaking man, but which had _also_ popped his shoulder and covered him head to toe in banana skins and something brown and mushy that he hadn't cared to explore.

By the time Roman and Seth had pounded up breathlessly he had been trying to reset the misplaced bone himself by thumping his shoulder blade into a brick wall, which had simultaneously horrified them and then not fucking worked. He had promptly been hauled to the hospital griping bitterly before being pushed into a cubicle to wait for a nurse and it was then that his life had transformed for the better when she had walked in beaming broadly,

" _Brick wall, huh_?"

From that point on she'd spent many long hours laughing at his list of past and present cockamamie bright ideas, but more often than not had then stopped to cup his face lovingly and stroke her thumbs over his cheekbones before whispering,

" _Not too crazy, okay_?"

Being splashed in the face with a tumbler of cola was probably pretty lower level stuff then right?

Dean coughed roughly,

"She would have called me an idiot."

"Damn right she would."

More rum trickled past his face in a constant beading from his saturated hairline which made his brother snort fondly then toss a napkin towards his lap. It was one of those rounded ones with the little crimped edges that waiters used as coasters and so it wasn't very big but it at least meant that Dean could mop the booze from his lashes before fixing the rest in a shake like a dog.

Paige was supposed to be bringing paper towels wasn't she?

 _Paige_.

Dean beamed,

"Dude you should totally ask her out."

"Huh?"

Brown eyes blinked back at him like maybe he'd gone loco or the booze on his face had permeated his skin and it reminded the copper blonde that he had started mid-sentence and that the younger man had no clue what he was talking about.

" _Paige_ man."

"What about her?"

"She's into you pretty badly."

His mouth opened and closed a few hundred times.

" _What_?"

In terms of his volume he was so fucking pitchy that the single barked word echoed fully throughout the bar and briefly made the music seem low in comparison.

Hold up –

Def Leppard seemed to have stopped and instead the busy tones of Motley Crue were blasting loudly like the place was only licensed to play eighties hair metal rock and which made him want to slash the kneecaps of his pants a little and backcomb his tangle.

Luckily Seth broke that up,

"She's into me?"

"Uh huh, I mean it's pretty freakin' obvious – kid kinda _pretties_ herself up when you're around, quits barkin' at people an' cussin' like a sailor an' she smiles an' bats her eyelashes an' that shit y' know? Plus she asks after you – like – the _entire_ time you're not here, so it's not like she's bein' subtle or tryin' to play it cool man, besides she's kinda pretty so it could totally be worse."

Like a big breasted peroxide blonde with rocking hips and no chill factor.

Seth blinked in total bewilderment,

"Wow."

Had he really not seen the big neon flashing signs before?

Based on his expression the answer was a _no_ and so his copper blonde brother put a fist out and punched him lightly like he was proud of himself for something and which he actually was.

"Don't worry man, I talked you up big time."

"Oh god, no, no, no – ,"

"It's all cool."

" _What did you say_?"

Dean blinked briefly because he couldn't remember and then absently scratched at the stubble on his chin which was sticky from the lingering coca cola residue and was beginning to make him smell bizarrely sugary as well.

"Uh, I told her you ate real healthy an' I _might_ have mentioned the whole breakin' my skull thing – ,"

" _Dean_ – ,"

"But she basically had no idea what I was ramblin' about by that point so honestly man? I mean, I think we might be in the clear because there's no freakin' _way_ she's gonna say no to you, in fact knockin' my ass out might count as a positive y' know?"

He meant that honestly because the long black haired bar staff had made it pretty obvious that she tolerated him but little else and Roman too since they were basically intruders who were there to protect her and were therefore not her friends. It was Seth alone who broken through her barriers, besides which she seemed like a reasonable kid and so if anyone was likely to accept his bad background and his past turn on his brothers then it was probably her.

Seth snorted shortly,

"Have you thought about what happens if I'm not interested in her like that?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

Dean lifted a lazy copper eyebrow but found that it stuck in the tacky cola trails.

 _Damn_.

"Because man, I think she could be kinda good for you an' besides, the hard part is findin' someone. Figure you would have to be – like – ten types of stupid to throw away a pretty girl who's head over heels for your ass, maybe even _literally_."

His brother grunted wearily,

"Thanks for the visual."

But his brown eyes flickered up and then towards the bar where their petite little charge was still busy working, before then narrowing like he was trying to figure out how he felt. Dean watched it happen but for once kept his silence because the more he pushed and prodded the more his teammate would back up. Frankly the three of them were hopeless in the love stakes, between _his_ crushing bereavement and Roman being newly divorced and therefore staring at the prospect of trying to find a partner who had no problem whatsoever with his three feisty sprogs and not to mention the ex-wife who would forever be in the picture.

 _Yeesh_.

Dean thought _he_ had things tough huh?

Seth blew a breath out and then rubbed at his neckline in an absent little movement that the copper blonde knew too well, since it was the sort of random itch that he often responded to when things hit him hard or right out of the blue.

"I mean _of course_ I think she's attractive – ,"

"Uh huh."

"But I never really thought about the two of us – ,"

"Hookin' up?"

Dean barked the phrase about a million times too loudly and his brother stiffened up and let the hand fall away before issuing a whisper that was suddenly panicky and kind of adorable,

"Shut up man, she's coming back."

"Awww – ,"

"Knock it off."

Paige sauntered in then threw across a square of fabric that was more of a moist rag than something he could use to clean himself up and on seeing his expression she shrugged her milky shoulders and then spread her hands helplessly,

"That was all we had man."

"Thanks."

His sarcastic reply was still biting around them as he buried his face into the mildew-smelling square, beginning with his chin and then swiping up across his cheekbones before rubbing out the rum still burning his eyes and was halfway up to his still beading hairline when the raven haired beauty tossed out a final line which she obviously meant to sound totally casual but was heavily lessened by her badly hidden grin,

"I mean _usually_ we use it to clean the shot glasses but I gave it a spritz under the hot tap first."

"What?"

Seth laughed back at him,

"Come on man, she's only kidding."

But the copper blonde wasn't wholly certain on that and so threw the tiny cloth back onto the table before exhaling heavily,

"That's it, I'm out."

Hauling his body from the tub chair with a grumble he flexed his shoulders backwards until his spine let out a crack and then winced as a vertebrae or a bundle of nerves or _something_ physically thunked like it was moving place. Seth leaned over and slapped his shoulder roughly which made it thunk _back_ again,

"Go home and sleep man, I can take it from here."

Dean raised a teasing brow at him,

"Oh yeah, I _bet_ you can."

But he left it at that and instead shrugged himself back into his leather jacket before then becoming borderline serious for a beat and turning to his brother who knew what was coming and so cut off the sentence with a hand wave,

"Yeah I know. If anything happens I'll call your ass back here."

It was a feature of their three man family that they fussed like mother hens and was also how Roman had left _him_ six hours earlier when the copper blonde had bounced in feeling refreshed to take the shift and was probably how _Seth_ would then leave their big dog when their powerhouse turned up to kick start a brand new day.

Dean levelled a finger at him accusingly,

"You'd fuckin' better."

He then turned on his heels and headed for the steps, surprised by how achy and tired his poor bones were and wondering if he looked half as old as his body felt. He wanted his power shower, his bed and some nourishment and in that order too but _especially_ his bed. Not that the sudden fast building exhaustion stopped him from turning as he stepped from the booth and throwing a wink in the direction of his teammate and their raven haired client,

"You two look real cute together y' know?"

" _Dean._ "

He beamed in response because the barb was _too_ easy and then cut across the floor before his brother could fight back or probably more likely punch him in the kisser or possibly crack him over the head with another chair. Besides, it wasn't mean if it was in their best interests and he held fast to that thought as he trampled through the room and tried his best to avoid the angry blonde stripper who likely was another person still baying for his blood.

He chose to take the long way round to be on the safe side and then pushed through the door to head back up onto the street since the bar was located in the basement of a building which had a cluster of half reputable looking businesses overhead and all of whom probably _loved_ having a titty bar below them to lend the area some real class.

"Fuck."

Dean cursed as he stepped back out into the open and right into a ferocious late summer thunderstorm which was blowing in sheets that would soak him in seconds but on the plus side would probably wash the last of the rum off and so he turned up his collar and set off along the sidewalk trying to keep close to the buildings which failed to work.

 _Stupid weather_.

He was halfway along the street when the Mercedes slid past him and for whatever reason it made him stop and look and in particular at the four men travelling inside it who were wearing expensive pant suits and had neatly slick-backed hair. It cruised towards the club and then pulled rapidly up kerbside which pricked his spidey-senses and set a pulse through his heart.

No way could they be –

But that thought was interrupted when the doors burst open and the occupants piled out, heading for the bar and each one of them holding handguns and moving with purpose.

Dean sprinted after them,

" _Shit_."

Beneath his feet the fast spreading puddles splashed up readily as he tore a path through them and half soaked his legs, but he was far too busy freaking out to pay much notice and trying to wrestle his own gun loose,

"Come on, come _on_ you piece of crap holster – ,"

Seth.

Dean _had_ to get in there and back him up.

His heart beat hard and the breath burst out of him as he raced along the street as fast as he could go, bracing himself for the noise of heavy gunfire and thankful for every second that went by without the bangs. But then that was thing about a mafia hit squad as opposed to a random mass shooter setup, because the four men inside the club were fucking professionals and they were looking for one person and _only_ one person.

Paige.

It was not in their interests to kill everyone in there and it was therefore for that reason that people began to stream out, hustling themselves up the staircase from the basement and then shouting and panicking like idiots on the street having obviously bailed when the men had burst in on them but none of them entirely sure what to do next. In the middle of them were the men they had mistaken for hitmen earlier but who based on their pallor had never seen a gun before and since about half of them were calling the cops already, the copper blonde blitzed past them and towards the crush on the stairs.

Dean elbowed his way through the frantic press of bodies barking roughly at them,

"Hey, fuckin' _move_."

But for the most part those fleeing were so filled with sheer terror that they barely even registered the frustrated sounding man and in the end he literally had to barge himself between them and push them to the side to cut himself a path, which meant that by the time he forced his way back to the lobby he was panting and breathless which was _not_ a good start.

 _Fuck_.

He flattened against the doorframe then stopped breathing to better listen.

Nothingness replied to him.

Initially at least –

Because the more he turned his head towards the barroom, the more tiny sounds began to bounce back, like the intermittent noise of whimpers and snivelling from the patrons and strippers trapped hopelessly inside and the breaking of glass fragments as they crunched beneath leather and which told him that the hit squad was moving around.

Dean took his chance and peered around the corner hoping not to be shot at.

For once he was in luck.

Beyond him on the newly emptied red tiger print carpet the four man killing team was picking over the terrain, taking careful steps to try and mask their positions and scanning the tipped tables for the black haired hostess.

Dean felt his anger begin to build exponentially because frankly the whole thing was ten kinds of fucking _wrong_ since the kid they were trying to spook out into the open had done nothing but pick a very bad time to head home and had stumbled on a murder in progress on her cut through that she alone had turned out to be the sole witness to and which therefore made her testimony vitally important to the potential fatal fall of an organized clan.

Nothing in life had led her to deserve that –

Nothing at all.

Movement briefly caught his eye and turning towards it he suddenly spotted her crouched low behind a partition with someone else at her side. For a second he figured it was his missing little brother and his heart leapt with the knowledge that his teammate was safe, but a closer look then revealed peroxide hair and large implants as well as fingernails that not ten minutes earlier had been blunted unhappily into his chest.

 _Crap_.

Paige had managed to find her own colleague but in the process had lost _his_ –

Where in the hell was Seth?

Back beside the main stage one of the hitmen was picking his way over to where the two clearly terrified girls were and hailing his brethren with a wave of his fingers to silently let them know he fast closing in. Dean took a breath and prepared to take the guy out as he aimed across the room at him.

But he was beaten to the punch.

 _Bang_.

Nobody moved for about half a second and then slowly one of the killers toppled backwards looking limp before crumpling into a lifeless heap on the carpet with a bright bloom of blood billowing over his chest. Following the obvious path of the bullet revealed the shooter hunkered low behind a tipped up table.

Seth.

Dean felt his body slacken ever so slightly and he blew a quick breath out,

 _Thank fuck for that_.

But his relief turned out to be typically fleeting since his teammate having popped up from his kickass little hiding place had clued in the rest of the squad to where he was and they were hustling in with barks of frustration including one in his blind spot who was moving in fast.

Dean burst out from his own patch of cover with a bellow,

"Seth get down."

His brother responded at once, throwing himself back behind the shelter of the table and handing Dean the perfect clearance to take a shot of his own –

 _Bang, bang_.

He bit out two bullets in rapid formation in order to make sure that he took his target out and the hitman shook as the rounds thudded into him and let out a gasp before spinning onto his back. But his loss rounded the numbers out to something more even as instead of four on one it was suddenly two on two. Dean liked those odds a whole lot better but was far _less_ impressed with the responding bullet hail as the two remaining hitmen turned hotly towards him and began to pump out lead in haphazard scattering fire.

"Fuck – ,"

Dean threw himself back into the lobby and flattened his body behind the thick basement wall as the bullets burst out after him like a bank of an angry hornets and then ricocheted so violently off every last surface that he covered his head and tried to make himself small in the hopes that he stood a better chance of surviving by protecting his vital organs from being blasted through. Back up out on the street he could hear people braying as the noise from the fight trickled up to where they were, but he had little time or patience to tell them to back up a step because there were mafia hitmen busy trying to root him out.

Hell of a night it was fast turning into.

From back in the room he heard his brother let loose a shout,

"Dean?"

"I'm okay."

By which he meant he wasn't wounded since _okay_ in that moment was a relative sort of term that bordered on a bald-faced lie as much as anything, because none of them were technically really _okay_.

Seth barked again,

"Paige keep calm, we'll get you out of this."

Knowing to stay silent the kid kept her lips sealed and the bar reverted back to the eerie nothingness Dean had been faced with not two minutes before and which gave him the chance to check the bullets left in his clip but also heightened the tension to the point of freak out. He figured that the hitmen left inside would likely separate because had he been in their shoes it was what he would have done and so therefore he assumed that while one was stalking his brother the final contract killer would be heading for him.

He hauled a short breath in and then tensed for a second before throwing himself from the lobby back towards the barroom floor, expecting to see the hitman halfway towards him but instead launching right into a twisted looking face.

His heart lurched.

" _Shit_."

How had the fucker moved so quickly?

Not that he had much time to think the thought through since he was literally eyeball to eyeball with the bastard and with the gun pointed somewhere towards his midsection too, but which luckily hadn't blown him into the ether because his sudden appearance had startled the hitman as well and thrown them both into a bewildered sort of stalemate in which they blinked at one another.

Dean moved first though.

Reaching between them he knocked the hand sideways at the exact same moment the killer triggered the gun and the bullet exploded in a burst of hot tension that blew out straight past him and only missed him by an inch. Had he been slower the thing would have been _in_ him and he would have been busy with the process of bleeding out, but since he _wasn't_ he instead brought his curled fist back and then thudded it full force into the hitman's face.

Bam.

In his right hand he was holding back of the arm of the hoodlum and trying to keep the lingering revolver at bay while at the same clinging to his own unused firearm which meant that he was forced to throw the hit with his left. It wasn't as powerful a punch as he had hoped for but it made the snarl-faced hitman snap his head back all the same and so Dean wasted little time throwing in another because beating out a victory was still a victory to him.

Besides, he couldn't let the guy get his gun loose for an instant –

But on the second try the hitman caught the balled fist in his palm and not only managed to save himself a broken septum but also threw them right into _another_ freeze frame.

 _Great_.

In fact if anyone had happened upon them in the moment and not noticed the tangled and therefore hard to use guns, then they probably would have mistaken them for ballroom partners in training trying to figure out a lift or some sort of loop.

Being pressed in close let Dean look at the man properly which honestly wasn't something he had been super keen to do, but since there was a chance things still might go south for him, he needed to be able to describe the fucker to the cops and so as he tussled and then tried to pull his fist back and as they blew frustrated grunts into one another's face, the copper blonde tried to commit him the man to memory and which turned out to actually not be that hard.

In life his one interest beyond being a lawman was watching true crime or natural history shows and had included probably like a _billion_ or so programs about organized crime and notorious mafiosos. Based on his appearance the man tangled with him had obviously seen about half of them too, since he looked identical to the traditional image, from the product covered hair to the bone chilling orbs.

Dean smirked insolently then lifted an eyebrow,

"How 'bout you make this easy for the both of us an' give up?"

"Fuck you asshole."

"So I'm gonna take that as a _no_ then?"

Because they were frozen in place in the lobby the rest of the barroom was hidden from view and so Dean could hear but not see what was happening when the sound out a gunshot blasted piercingly through and then was followed by a scream so high pitched and horrified that it turned his blood to ice at its shriek of a word,

" _Seth_."

Dean blinked.

Fuck.

Had his brother been wounded or possibly even –

No.

He shook his head.

 _No_.

But in spite of his furious refusal to believe it he couldn't prevent the lump that surged up into his throat or the tingling that began to make his limbs feel fuzzy but which he couldn't let happen because he needed to keep the hold and stop the hitman from shooting him point blank leaving Roman to bury both of his idiot best friends. Dean simply _had_ to get to his little brother and the power of that spurred him furiously on and so was therefore the reason that he suddenly pulled his head back before launching it without warning into the temple of his hitman foe. Pain exploded throughout both of their senses or at the least copper blonde kind of hoped it had, because for a second or two his vision was spotted and so he couldn't really see what sort of impact his blow had caused.

Nothing changed for about a nanosecond and then there was the sound of something hard hitting the floor which he realized was the gun when his eyes finally cleared enough, but which was then promptly followed by the hitman himself whose eyes had rolled right up into his forehead in the full bodied unconsciousness that Dean had wanted.

Fuck yeah.

He barely even waited for the form to fully crumple before charging from the lobby back into the bar, because his every last sense was pounding with adrenaline and horror and the possibility of bereavement as well.

Images of his brother flashed hot through his system –

Barking at him about something.

Rolling his eyes.

Being _Seth_.

Dean burst over the threshold expecting his teammate to be sprawled in front of him but instead of that was faced with a totally new scene, because while his brother wasn't anywhere visible, the final hitman unmistakably was and he was crossing to the spot where Paige was hunkered with her blonde stripper friend.

Exotic performer –

 _Not now_.

From where he was standing the copper blonde could see the women huddled together and trying their hardest to not make a sound, but each of them aware that the gunman was moving in on them and totally helpless to make him turn back. He was literally a total of three steps away from them and ten seconds away from pumping them full of lead.

Dean raised his gun,

"Hey – ,"

Hitman Four turned towards him and in response the undercover man emptied his clip.

 _Bang, bang, bang, bang_.

Both the women screamed loudly as the man inches away from them shuddered beneath the force then toppled over backwards and into an upturned table smashing a lamp as he keeled over onto the mess. But on the plus side at least he was finally lifeless and so therefore no longer a viable threat.

None of them were.

Dean let himself slump visibly but then stiffened again hurriedly as he looked around,

"Seth?"

No answer.

 _Fuck_.

He began to plough through furniture, kicking at broken chairs as he hunted for his friend and trying to fight back the brutal bank of images twisting and turning and filling up his mind and all of which built from the same basic nightmare of finding his brother any way other than alive.

" _Seth_ god damn it – ,"

"Dean?"

He spun towards the syllable as a familiar nasal tone cut in across the room, turning on his heel like he was on roller blades or something before blowing out a full bodied sigh of relief. His littlest brother was heading towards him upright and evidently beneath his own steam as well and he looked to be intact with the notable exception of the bicep which he was clamping onto tight with a hand and which seemed to be tinged with a tell-tale red color which made the copper blonde hurry to meet him,

"What happened to you?"

Seth bumped his shoulders back ruefully then winced a little,

"Asshole winged me, nothing too bad."

Dean peeled the fingers back forcefully anyway like his teammate was possibly lying to him or else like a torrent of blood would burst out at him but luckily it was only a trickle at best and so although the wound itself looked pretty ugly it was totally manageable.

"You're gonna need stitches man."

"Yeah I figured,"

Dean then suddenly pulled him inwards and into a rare but powerful hug, since usually it was his tactile and touchy feely brothers who initiated touslings and embraces and that sort of thing. Momentarily the younger man sort of blinked a little but then he responded with his uninjured arm, bending it around the copper blonde's middle and then finishing up with a solidifying pat.

 _I'm still here man, I'm good_.

Neither one of them needed to say it because they knew each other so well the words were implied, besides which there was perhaps one more question that needed to be established and which the brown haired man asked,

"We get 'em all?"

Dean nodded back and tucked his gun back into its holster as he blinked at the chaos,

"Every last fuckin' one."

"Roman is gonna go nuts when he hears this."

"Dibs on not havin' to tell him."

" _Dibs_? What are you – like – five years old?"

Dean opened his mouth to offer a comeback that would have sounded harsh but would not have been meant because _fuck_ it was good to be able to bust each other, but which was stifled in any case by the sudden fast moving form. It ploughed a path through the piles of beat up furniture and then launched itself bodily at the lightly wounded man before wrapping long pale arms around his neck line and then breathing shakily into the crook his neck,

"Fucking fuck I thought he'd killed you."

Paige evidently swore more heavily when freaked out but was also a lot more handsy along with it because her hands were around him, holding him close.

Seth coughed bravely,

"Nah, I mean he barely touched me."

Dean beamed as he noticed his brother was holding her right back, with his hands on her hips having forgotten about the blood stains and not looking too unhappy to have her pressed against his ribs. Frankly had the copper blonde been more of an asshole, it would have been a near perfect time for a teasing little quip but considering his brother had been shot and nearly ended he figured that maybe he could give him a break, besides which there was the sound of heavy sirens in the background as the cavalry tore closer and evidently en masse and Dean blew a sigh out and then fished free his old police badge to hopefully avoid being arrested on the spot.

He threw his thumb towards the stairwell beyond the threshold that led them back up and out onto the street and then cleared his throat a little to break the tight hug up which had no real impact,

"Guess I'll go meet the cops then?"

Seth mumbled back at him,

"Mmhmm."

He sounded blissful or weary or pained or probably all three wrapped into one and in response his brother bit a wry little snort back and then headed for the lobby stepping over bodies as he went. His buxom blonde rum thrower from earlier tailed him hazily, both bewildered and shell shocked from what had gone on and he let her trot after him before stopping on the threshold and beaming back at his teammate,

"Hey man?"

"What?"

"Ask the fuckin' kid out."

* * *

 **Is it good to have them back? God I hope so!**

 **Next week the boys break down on a deserted road in the middle of the night and...I may have scared even myself writing this one! See you there!**


	18. Send In The Clowns

**Had to be at work for 5am the last two days so I'm pretty sure I'm working on fumes right now. To that end please forgive any mistakes in my comments or the story itself. But good news, the boys are all here in this one, yay!**

 **Skovko, LOVE Mean Girls! (Who doesn't?) But yeah, Dean is not exactly in the mood for strippers and sex in this little series of mine. Yikes, sorry about the alcoholic neighbours, but glad I could help in a small way. Maybe read it aloud to them next time and see if it puts them to sleep like a nice bedtime story? (Yeah, I have no more suggestions!)**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, And I'm glad that you're glad they're back (does that make sense?!) These have been sitting on my computer waiting for ages, but I didn't want to have too many things on the go, so now they are getting their moment in the sun! Lots of them coming up too!**

 **Minnie1015, I'm sure I must have read the 'exotic dancer' bit in a newspaper article or something! Or maybe I simply made it up? Who knows! But in the politically correct world we live in now, Dean totally strikes me as someone who would struggle to keep up with terminology. To him a stripper is a stripper! He's a black and white kinda guy!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, *blows kiss* Thank you!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Awww, it's good to be back with the these! I always like to have the boys busting one anothers' chops. It's how they show love (in a typically roundabout, teasing sort of a man way). Gotta have a bit of action in there too (for the most part). Hope I can deliver all those different things in this one too…**

 **Cheryl24, Yeah, I felt like Seth needed a bit of a break in this series considering everything I've put him through, so a hinted at romantic liaison it is! Plus I loved their little thing in NXT (brief as it was) and I like the idea that she could probably runs rings around him. Hence a pairing was born!**

 **Hayley1001, Glad you liked it. I possibly should have saved this one for Halloween, but what the hell, have it a month early instead! I hope you like spooky stuff (also, I hope this actually counts as spooky and isn't just me being a wimp!)**

 **Cherry619, I like to mix things up from time to time. Usually it's Dean being the one being worried over, so I wanted to have him be the worried one and have to confront one of his brothers being hurt on his watch. Especially because he has this sort of hidden layer of vulnerability. But yeah, gotta have some humour in there too, always humour!**

 **Derick Lindsey, I just loved the idea of Dean trying way too hard as a wingman! Seth and Paige had a story in NXT where she liked him and they've been in some non-character things. I just always thought their character mixes went well together. Plus she would probably confuse the crap out of him! Never really thought who the blonde was...Sunny maybe?**

 **Mandy, Aww, sorry you had a chaotic day. Hopefully things have picked up since then? Yeah, in these series Dean is always going to be faithful to 'her.' He's loyal like a dog bless his heart! I really enjoyed writing some Seth and Dean time. Plus them both helping each other in their own specific ways...Seth with the tough love and Dean trying to help set up a date (badly!) Got all our boys in this one, because I could never leave the big guy out twice!**

 **Tfan23, I have actually been thinking of having Paige pop back up at some point in the future again to sort of carry that theme on a little. But none of the boys will ever had a full-time live in girlfriend, because that would break the bromance vibe. But yeah, I totally see her and Seth as being friends with benefits and trying not to let on they like each other. So watch this space!**

 **HannonsPen, Yep, *sings* Oh my god they're back again (whoop, whoop). I have a whole lot of these babies coming up too, which range from whacky, to emotional, to action-packed and sometimes a bit of a mix of all three. So get ready for the madness!**

 **Rebel8954, I sort of imagine Roman in bed snoring happily completely unaware of the chaos! I also imagine Seth and Dean not explaining it very well when they do get round to telling him and it making no sense! Not a problem, I felt it was time Seth got a little focus. But they're all here for this one!**

 **Um, happy early halloween I guess...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Send In The Clowns**

Dean hissed out a curse as the engine began to splutter and then reluctantly manoeuvred their battered surveillance van from the road, bumping it over the rough terrain of the pull off and then battling as the power steering failed on him,

"Fuck."

He had flipped on the hazards about three or so miles back but that hadn't slowed the truck that had been way up his behind and which then let out a long terse blast of unhappiness as it roared on past them.

Dean frowned at it –

Ass.

But frankly he had a couple more things to be concerned about since the pull off was more pitted than the surface of the moon, which meant missing the potholes was practically impossible and therefore sent their trusty vehicle on a rollercoaster ride. Drinks cans, map books, phones and burger wrappers were sent flying and so too were the men who had been crashed out in the back but who woke to the sensation of an earthquake in progress which pitched both their asses to the unforgiving floor.

"Whoa – ,"

" _Crap_."

Dean punched the brakes harshly then bit back his own curse as his head bounced off the roof before turning the wheel to stop from hitting the treeline as their trusty little vehicle finally slid to a halt.

Everyone lurched forward and then shot back,

"Uce?"

"What the hell man?"

Roman blew out a hiss as he clambered to his feet having at some point become wedged between the front and the back seats when the bouncing and bumping had tossed him onto the floor and based on his wince right on top of the cup holder which was a solid little thing and so therefore had likely fucking hurt.

Dean screwed his face up in sympathy and then muttered as the big worrisome head poked through to where he was, like the overgrown lug was concerned about _his_ ass when he was the moron that had almost gotten them killed,

"Uh, sorry 'bout that, there was this truck an – ,"

Dean tapered off again like maybe that tiny titbit alone would suffice and which it probably _would_ have for his even tempered brother. But it had precious little impact on their fractious third man who had been laid out in the back beneath their table of equipment and who had nearly taken a subwoofer right to the head.

Predictably he seemed to be far less forgiving.

"What the fuck happened?"

"There was this truck up my ass an' I guess it was pissed at me goin' so slowly which was _not_ my freakin' fault because we've run outta gas, so I couldn't exactly punch it an' – ,"

Seth cut him off again in tones of incredulity,

"I'm sorry, _run out of gas_?"

Dean blinked.

Fuck.

He had been hoping to keep that hidden –

Not that he had really worked out _how_ exactly but either way he had been planning on not letting them in the loop, or at least not until he had some type of solution but which his usual frantic babble had blown straight to hell.

"Uh, _kinda_ yeah."

Reaching a hand up he began to scratch his neck line in a subconscious little movement he mostly had no concept of and which only flared up when he was stressed out or angry but which then tended to cause real harm when it did, since unchecked he would have quite happily ripped himself to pieces.

Roman caught his hand and then knocked it back,

"Hey."

Blowing out a sigh and turning towards the windshield the copper blonde peered out into the thick black night which was perforated only by the pale pulse of starlight trying to bust in through the twisted trees above. Nothing else moved or breathed or seemed living and nor fucking _ha_ d it for the last several miles, with the exception of the trucker who had tried to mow them over because heaven forbid he should have had to find the brakes.

 _Ass._

Dean felt like it was worth saying two times or possibly even five times,

 _Ass, ass, ass._

Behind him however and clearly worried by the silence or likely pissed off by it which was way more his thing, their littler brother hung in through the backseats and then spread his hands wide,

"So run this by me again – we've run out of gas?"

"Yep."

" _How_ man?"

Dean shrugged at him, hoping to make his response sound off hand and not like he was cursing himself internally for it, which on every human level he totally was. Because how the _fuck_ could he have been such a moron? How had he not noticed about fifty miles before or at least when the fuel light had lit up in a panic which it _had_ because the thing was staring back at him in red.

He scratched at his nape,

"Guess I must've been thinkin'."

"What the hell about?"

Dean was reluctant to say, because the truth was that for maybe two hours before their turn off he had been lamenting the peculiarities of movie theatre armrests and how people ever knew which one was _their_ one and which seat, if any, in a row might have two. In short it was a poor excuse for nearly having killed them and so he bit his lip hard then shrugged loosely,

"Don't know."

"Don't know how we ran empty or what you were thinking about?"

"Either."

His brother promptly exploded,

" _Seriously_?"

Dean figured that their tech man was probably a nanosecond from reaching between the seats and boxing him in the head and was bracing himself for that precise consequence when their big man broke through them and held up his hands,

"Both of you take it easy."

Seth spluttered back at him,

"How in the hell am I supposed to do that when the three of us are stuck in the middle of nowhere because our idiot of a brother can't keep his eyes on the tank?"

Dean winced.

 _Ouch_.

Roman however remained even in the way that only a father of three small children could, because bitching little kids had become his special skill set alongside being a taskforce operative that was and therefore was one thing he knew precisely how to handle which he began by putting on his low parental tones and then trying to ignore the building bruise across his hip bone where the potholes had thrown him onto the cup holder hard.

"It's been a long case and we're all feeling it okay boys?"

Dean snorted back at him.

 _Long_?

It had been the _worst_ and had hauled their sorry asses ten hours from the city to the foothills of the high peaks on the other side of the state, where a teenaged girl had been holed up with her maths teacher because the forty two year old fucker had convinced her they were in love.

Not only that but he had spun her such a story that she hadn't been too happy when the city taskforce had shown up and so had screamed and clawed and even tried to _bite_ them.

Dean was pretty sure he still had spit in his bangs.

 _Gross_.

But on the plus side at least they had locked up a pedophile, not to mention reunited the poor brainwashed teen with her folks and what was probably a lifetime of therapy and hopefully home schooling if common sense won out.

Seth huffed a breath in from behind them then threw his hands wide,

"So what happens now?"

He wasn't talking about the teen and was instead still caught up in their own situation which was likely more pressing in the basic scheme of things since they were parked up on the roadside with no fuel to get them out of there and surrounded by trees throwing creepy ass shapes and bending towards them sort of _threateningly_ in the headlights –

Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"I'll go find us some gas."

Seth blinked back at him in the reflection of the rear view like he'd said something crazy,

"Where from man?"

"Not sure, but I figure if I – like – walk for long enough or whatever then there has to a gas station or house or somethin' or someone that can tow us."

Roman shook his big head at him,

"Not letting you go babe."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because it's pitch black out there and I'm not having your crazy ass on the side of the road hitchhiking or however else you're planning on hauling us outta this this fix. I mean if you wanna trek for hours then knock yourself out brother, but you're not moving until the morning if I have to lock you in myself."

Dean blinked,

"Uh, so to summarize then big guy – ,"

"Park your ass in that seat and leave it there."

 _Okay_.

Dean threw himself back into the fabric of the front seat like he was borderline huffy at having been bossed about, but on the inside and likely the outside a little, he was beaming like an idiot because the big powerhouse freaking _cared_ and had no problems whatsoever with letting them know it like the hugely protective big brother that he was and which made the fact that Dean had let the gas burn out on them and then nearly totalled the van not seem half so bad.

Seth let out a long knowing moan of unhappiness,

"We're sleeping in here tonight aren't we?"

"Yep."

Dean spread his hands wide,

"Hey man, I mean I offered but uce laid the law down so what can I do y' know?"

He turned to look through the headrest beyond the backseat and into the bay where their technical hoopla was and where the bay had been lined with a tabletop full of monitors and microphones and the sound equipment they needed to be able to do their thing. In front of it was a bar stool that functioned as the main work station since they never would have fitted a full sized office chair in, besides which the castors would have made life kind of troublesome whenever their little surveillance van had been speeding flat out.

Seth had kicked the stool towards the back to make more floor space and had taken off his sweater before spreading it out and rolling it into a ball like a pillow so that his head wasn't flattened on the harsh metal floor. It wasn't the most comfortable looking bedroll he had ever seen but at least his brother could stretch his legs out and so too could Roman on the backseat horizontally even if he had been forced to bend his big knees a bit.

Dean was cramped in the front seat –

 _Perfect_.

Making himself a nest was going to be hard.

He tried it anyway though by hunkering low into the seat folds and then trying to kick his large booted feet up, which scrabbled for purchase on the slippery console before slithering back off and banging hard into the stick. Next he tried to somehow tangle them through the steering wheel but the position brought his knees in too close to his face and so he battled to turn and stretch himself long ways which involved lots of bouncing and violent elbowing of the seats and _may_ have caused the whole surveillance van to wobble and which set off his youngest brother like a firework,

"Dean, knock it off."

Blue eyes blazed back through the headrest sullenly,

"Can't get comfy."

"Then figure it out."

Roman murmured something incoherent behind him which could have been a curse but was more likely to be a plea, or else some sort of super sleepy attempt at placating him since he then put a hand out and slotted it through the seats before using it to pat through his copper blonde locks loosely and a little like he was petting a rambunctious puppy to make it sit.

Regardless of what it was though the move worked to settle him because their undercover man flopped back with a huff and then tried to pretend like the hard plastic handle wasn't poking his kidneys and his tender skinned flank. He folded his arms and then unfolded them restlessly before letting his lids lower in the welcome hunt for sleep.

He could feel the blackness washing over him instantly and it was warm and soothing.

 _Crap_.

He needed to go pee –

Badly too like his bladder was cramping, or possibly even about to explode and which made him launch for the door handle without warning and then basically tumble out backwards since he'd been leant on the thing.

Seth barked,

" _Dean_ – ,"

Roman similarly blinked himself awake too and then propped himself up onto a worried elbow,

"Uce?"

"Need to take a leak man, be back before you know it."

"Keep close babe."

Dean shrugged,

"Where else could I fuckin' go?"

In response to the nonchalance the powerhouse snorted, like he wasn't convinced by the super loose tones and which was probably because not two months earlier he had been kidnapped by a killer from practically beneath their nose and from a place that they had figured had been basically home turf for them but in the scheme of things had turned out to be not.

Roman lay back again then shut his eyes wearily as he laced his fingers over the hump of his chest but he still managed to issue out a rumbled instruction,

"If you're not back in five minutes I'm blowing the horn babe."

Dean snorted,

"Is that a euphemism?"

Roman beamed loosely back at him, but the moment was broken by a bark from the back, which burst out in equal parts horror and frustration and only made him smile harder,

"Go pee already man."

"Alright, alright – ,"

Dean hopped from the surveillance van and then straight into one of the many pitted holes, which looked like some treasure hunter had been blowing the place for bullion but which the state highway maintenance crews had yet to fill back up.

He had watched some programme once about long lost buried money hidden in secret caches by the losing side back in the war and how the modern estimations of the long forgotten bootee put the price of the hoards at fifty million or more. He could have bought them a brand new surveillance van for that cost, with a real working bathroom and a bedroom and kitchenette so that rather than having to blunder out into the wilderness he could have relieved himself in comfort and washed his freaking hands.

He frowned.

Had the civil war even been fought in their neighborhood?

Dean made a mental note to buy a shovel and check before hastening his pace as his bursting bladder spasmed and unloading his stream on the nearest available tree.

 _Bliss_.

Based on the fact he had spent the last five hours bent over the wheel throwing bottles of water back and had _then_ thought it necessary to chug a can of soda, he was forced to hover in front of his toilet-tree for some time, but which allowed him absently cast about at his surroundings which were basically like something from a horror movie scene. Every last branch seemed to be weirdly twisted, like they were hunched up in some sort of silent agony, only the fucking things were _not_ silent because they were actually creaking and moving fiercely in breeze and the noise of which made him bounce his hips about a little to help his bladder empty faster.

Not that he was _scared_.

He was simply trying to keep to the curfew that his powerhouse brother had laid out to him seconds before and which had clearly specified a time of no more than five minutes to finish his business and then haul his ass back.

Not fear then.

Not even remotely –

He heard a branch snap and his blood ran cold,

"Fuck."

Partly he hated himself for being so skittish but on second thoughts horror movies had never much been his thing because he had never bought into the excitement of being nervous. But it was likely the reason he made such a good cop since for them being surprised usually meant being shot at and so having a natural caution of the unknown helped a lot.

Except for the few times that his ass had been kidnapped –

Not that he much liked to think about that.

Rocking his hips to shake the last of the leak loose, he tucked himself hastily back into his pants and then turned with a sigh towards their trusty surveillance van and the warm orange glow pouring out from the headlights. Briefly he wondered how much battery they still had, because the last thing they needed was for that to run flat. He was trampling his way back over the trench-like potholes fixing to switch off the ignition when he caught a movement to his right and so absently turned and looked over towards the treeline before wishing he hadn't.

There was a clown staring back.

Huh?

Dean blinked a bit and then kept _on_ blinking because for a second he couldn't make the image compute, but each time he let his lids shut and then re-open the exact same thing was staring back at him.

Yep.

A clown.

It was stood between the trees about thirty feet away from him, but looking weirdly illuminated in a beam of moonlight which lit up the cakey and slightly smeared white face makeup and the purple rimmed eyes and the big red lipped smile. Its hair was luminous green with bedraggled looking fake curls which hung limply past a pair of bloated but pasty looking cheeks and then brushed a bewilderingly broad pair of shoulders half hidden beneath a unitard that failed to flatter his shape.

Black eyes stared back unblinking right at him.

Dean open and then closed his mouth,

"What in the fuck?"

For maybe three seconds they simply looked at one another and the total lack of movement made the copper blonde frown, like maybe his tired brain was simply throwing up images because it had been a long and _teenage spit_ sort of a day and so therefore it was possible that he was maybe hallucinating or else was fast asleep and had never clambered out and which he totally bought and felt mildly content about –

Right up until the clown fucking moved.

Not a whole lot but enough to be freaky as the fucker held up his hands to mimic tiger claws, which he then raked through the air like he was slowly scratching something but keeping his face totally expressionless,

Nope.

" _Jesus Christ_ – ,"

Dean fumbled at his belt loops for the firearm that he usually kept tucked away securely in the band, before remembering that he had thrown the thing into the glove compartment because the barrel had been poking uncomfortably into his ribs and which basically meant that he was stood in the pitch black in the middle of a forest on an isolated road looking at a man who had turned up from fucking _nowhere_ wearing clown clothes while he was totally unarmed.

He cleared his throat,

"Look man, whatever you're tryin' here it isn't fuckin' funny."

 _Asshole_.

It was his word of the night.

His creepy friend however blinked back at the barked tones which the copper blonde had been hoping would have some kind of effect and which on some level they seemed to since the pale features quirked suddenly as the clown tipped his head briskly onto one side, but way too quickly like his neck was hinged or something and which was easily the most horrifying part of the lot.

Dean stepped backwards inching a foot for the surveillance van and the tiny little shift seemed to trigger the phantom too, who, without any warning began pounding in towards him, trampling branches beneath his feet and moving freakishly fast.

 _Fuck_.

Dean ran too because it seemed the best option –

Besides which his body was coursing with fear and not to mention about a fucking _bantamweight_ of bewilderment because what in the holy hell was going on?

How in the world was that _thing_ even out there?

Behind him the forest floor kept on loudly snapping as his freaky ass buddy tore hot on his heels and the thought of the painted face made the lawman move faster in a haphazard vault over the large pitted holes and then physically _into_ the side of the surveillance van as his braking system helpfully chose to bail on him too.

"Ouch, crap – ,"

It took him several long seconds and some fumbling with the handle before he could successfully haul ass back in, but the second the lock clicked he threw himself in bodily in an actual movie style launch over the seats and one that buried the stick shift into his stomach but on the plus side at least let him put hands to his gun which he seized up then turned in a point towards the windows.

 _Eat lead bastard_.

Huh?

No one was there.

Instead the only thing that he could see besides the blackness was his own panting reflection blinking back towards himself with his blue eyes wide and hair sticking upright where the wind and burst of energy had forced it onto its end and which had blessed him with the look of a curious toddler that had poked a fork prong into a power outlet and the performance of which had woken his brothers since the youngest one piped up at him,

"What's happening man?"

" _Fuck_ – ,"

Dean launched a foot in the air in response to it and then clutched his poor heart before throwing back a glare, but instead managing to catch his older teammate in the crosshairs whose big thick brows knitted together at once,

"Babe?"

"Roman there – there's a fuckin' _clown_ out there."

"A what now?"

His bizarre sentence was met with a blink and not only from the powerhouse but from their baffled little brother also who leaned in towards the windows from over the back seats,

"Where?"

"Uh – ,"

Dean had been hoping that they wouldn't ask him that part.

Because the truth of the matter was that he straight up had no idea, since one minute the painted loon had been cracking branches right behind him and the next he had evaporated into thin air, or had been swallowed by the thick and eerily twisted treeline which he could more or less still see in the burning headlight beam.

No clowns though –

 _Damn_.

"Babe?"

Dean blew a heavy breath out and then scratched his neckline awkwardly,

"He was right fuckin' there."

"A clown?"

"Uh huh."

His eyes were still pinned to the scratched up window pane in front of him like he was holding his breath waiting for the face to pop back up, but his long-time police senses still picked up on the sighing and the expressions passing between his two brothers behind his head, who were silently trying to figure out whether or not he'd gone crazy.

Maybe –

But the clown thing was separate to that and so he huffed back sullenly,

"I know what I saw assholes."

"A clown?"

"Yeah a clown, stop fuckin' repeatin' it."

Roman held his hands like he did with his children but which seemed to work on his middle brother too since the copper blonde rolled his eyes back then let the weapon fall reluctantly from where he had been pointing it towards the outside world.

The big man kept his tone even,

"You've been behind the wheel for hours babe – ,"

"What about it?"

"If you _were_ seeing things then I wouldn't be surprised, which is not me saying there _isn't_ a clown out there but that if you _had_ imaged one then it would kinda make sense."

Dean blinked back,

"But – ,"

"Look out of the window," Seth put in from where he was leant in through the seats and the copper blonde complied to the instruction on instinct because his brain was beginning to turn into a mushy haze whereby the more and more he thought about the phantom the more unlikely the fucking thing seemed. Because what the hell would anyone have been thinking climbing into a costume and then hanging out in the woods beside a road and in the middle of freaking nowhere to add another point because there sure as hell weren't any houses nearby.

Blackness stared back at him as it had been the whole evening and with every second that ticked by the more he felt himself unwind, since maybe his brain was trying to play tricks on him or force to take a break.

He let his gun fall –

 _Oh_.

Roman nodded his encouragement and then reached a warm palm through to massage the badly tensed neck muscles loose in kneading little touches that instantly helped him and eased the embarrassment,

"Come on uce, how 'bout some sleep?"

"Did you manage to piss man?"

Dean sometimes had to marvel at how totally and completely his two tough brothers could turn into parents and the thought made him smile and blow a wry snort out which was as much at himself as anything because how could he ever have thought he'd seen a damn _clown_ out there?

He blinked back wearily and then nodded his head at them since he figured that if Seth somehow thought he was lying and hadn't really been to the bathroom then he would have marched his ass back out and then made him empty his bladder before bedtime like the closeted homemaker mom he truly was.

"Yep."

Finding himself a comfy spot again proved complex but his tossing and turning went unchecked the second time, which allowed him to kick his legs up across the central console right the way to the passenger side. It was by no means the most comfortable position to spend a night in, but in the broader scheme of things he figured it was fine and besides, he had slept in far _worse_ positions including one time on a pool table when –

 _Um._

He couldn't remember why.

Behind him he could hear his teammates settling back again and the sound of their wearied and sleep heavy breathing began to lull him too.

It had been a crazy day.

Dean shuffled himself a little further into the seat folds and then tipped his head back to find a better supporting nook before suddenly remembering that the headlights were still blasting and that they needed the battery not to be flat and so he hauled himself upright to twist the keys in the ignition but at the same time looked up through the windshield.

No way –

His clown was fucking back and staring at him unblinking, less than ten feet away from the hood and Dean slammed himself into the seat in pure astonishment before opening his mouth and then beginning to yell,

"Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Roman, _Roman_ – ,"

"Uce?"

"What's wrong man?"

Dean twisted to where they were, watching his brothers pop up from their makeshift bedrolls like really sluggish daisies bursting up out of the earth.

He pointed towards the windshield in a measure of total speechlessness that had never really much been a feature of his before, but which managed to clue them into something pretty serious because for him to not be speaking then shit had to have hit the fan.

He managed two words,

"Fuckin' clown – ,"

His younger brother frowned at him,

"Where man?"

Dean spluttered back in total cluelessness,

" _Where_?"

How was it not obvious that pretty much right in front of him was a man in a lycra suit which was brighter than the sun and who was wearing a tangled hairpiece with _makeup_ caked all over him?

Seth had gone blind.

It was the only thing that fit.

But turning in his seat to point incredulously through the window the copper blonde hit on the problem at once, because instead of a lunatic peeking out through the gloom at them, the only sight that greeted him was the headlight lit-up potholes and the treeline beyond that.

He had gone again.

" _No_ ," Dean spat the word out fiercely and firmly, "No I am _not_ fuckin' makin' this shit up."

"Babe – ,"

"An' spare me the bein' _overtired_ bullshit too man because I'm tellin' you that curly, luminous haired bastard was right there an' no way is my imagination that freakin' powerful that I can fuckin' see the lines in his wrinkly ass face."

He was pretty much bellowing in total frustration because he wanted to try to force through the point and in response to it both of his brothers leant in closer, with Roman having pushed through to rest on the front seats, while Seth was hung over the headrests behind _him_ being located at the furthest point from where the clown was.

Both men were staring back at him totally unblinking.

Seth swallowed hesitantly and then hissed roughly,

"Dean – ,"

"Look I know what you're gonna say and I get that it sounds crazy, but the guy is fuckin' out there runnin' round in full costume an' gettin' painted up for who the fuck knows what."

"Dean – ,"

"Look, I really need you two to try an' back me up on this thing because I know I've been liable for some _stuff_ in the past an' that sometimes I sorta think _weird_ compared to normal folk, but I've never fuckin' hallucinated _circus freaks_ before, so you can both stop lookin' at me like that fuckers."

Roman shook his head in slow response,

"That ain't it babe."

He then lifted a hand and pointed somewhere behind him and the copper blonde twisted to look over his shoulder through the passenger side window and –

Whoa.

" _Holy fuck_."

In stepping from out of the beam of the headlights the phantom killer clown had worked his way round and had been pressed so close to the window right behind him that the hot breaths from his nose were fucking steaming up the pane. Dean scrabbled backwards clumsily over the centre console in a tangle of limbs to put some space between them both, while his brothers continued to blink in bewilderment and measures of total and utter disbelief.

Seth gaped,

"It _is_ a clown."

"Oh so _now_ you believe me."

But their shouting seemed to suddenly frighten their freak off because he turned and bolted from the surveillance van rapidly and then melted like a shadow back into the night, which was probably the least comforting part of the encounter since while having his face pressed in close had been unsettling at least they knew where the fuck the thing was. But his absence turned the outside blackness into nothing but a vast sea of clowns and wild unknowns.

Roman sucked a breath in,

"Maybe one of us should go out there."

"Are you fuckin' _nuts_?"

Dean practically blew his top because he had only barely managed to keep ahead of the guy the _first_ time and so the thought of his best friend and much loved older brother blundering into the killing fields turned over his gut and evidently put chills into their younger sibling also since Seth twisted up his face and then cleared his throat from the back,

"I'm not so sure man – ,"

Dean was more implicit,

"You seriously wanna tangle with the creepy killer clown?"

"What if he needs help?"

Dean pointed through the window and then waved his hand emphatically,

"Oh he needs help _for sure_ , I mean the guy is stood in the middle of nowhere lookin' like the circus has rolled into town. But the kinda help _he_ needs is a locked room an' a straitjacket an' I'm pretty freakin' sure that we forgot to pack those."

Roman shuffled over the seats and grabbed the handle before stopping on the threshold,

"Any weapons?"

"Uh, no."

Because frankly the phantom hadn't needed any weaponry by merit of the fact that he was a _terrifying clown_ so there was literally nothing else he could have had with him that would have made him more frightening than he already was.

Roman slid open the partition door anyway and then shivered on instinct as the bitter wind blasted through and promptly proceeded to slap them all around the features like it was chastising them for even _thinking_ about leaving the safety of their van.

Seth shifted a little,

"Need some backup out there big man?"

Roman smiled more bravely than he felt but like the tried and tested older brother that he was to them he simply tossed a cavalier wink towards the back as he hopped out onto the potholed ground beyond them with a sort of half a chuckle,

"Nah, better stay here and look after uce, you know how his crazy ass can find trouble."

"Hey – ,"

But the copper blonde's bark of protest ricocheted right back at him as their powerhouse then slid the heavy door shut and plunged his brothers into a tentative silence.

Fuck.

Dean rubbed his thumb tip over his bottom lip absently as he sat poised half waiting to hear a blood curdling scream and possibly the sound of his best friend being murdered by a lunatic who clearly from tight lycra and face paint.

Seth too seemed unsurprisingly antsy,

"What the hell happened?"

Dean shrugged,

"No fuckin' clue, I mean one minute m' out there kinda takin' a leak or whatever an' the next thing m' lookin' up an' starin' right at the thing an' – like – why a fuckin' _clown_ man?"

He shuddered a little.

No wonder he hated stupid horror films when freaking life was bad enough already. He had certainly told his fiancée that anyway and had also passed off his frequent twitches of startlement when she had made them watch _The Conjuring_ as being painful leg cramps. Not that he supposed she had particularly believed him, but thankfully she had loved him too much to call him out.

Fuck he missed her still.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Huh?"

" _The clown_ ," Seth pressed testily because what the hell else would he be referencing?

"Oh – uh – nope."

"Hey are you okay man?"

Dean opened his mouth but then stalled on the answer as Roman trod a path round in front of the windshield to stand in the headlight beam looking back in, with his broad hands wide in a silent little gesture which evidently meant _his ass ain't out here_.

Dean wasn't sure if that was a negative or a positive but on the plus side at least their burly powerhouse was safe and so he blew out a sigh and went to wave him back in again.

Which was naturally when the killer clown then chose to reappear.

Seth barked,

"Whoa – ,"

" _Roman_."

But both shouts were buried as the white painted circus loon burst back into the light and threw himself bodily in a spear at their muscle man who hadn't seen it coming and so took the hit hard. Roman toppled over backwards with the chalked up freak tight round him and then they both fell out of view in front of the hood.

Crap.

Dean had the door flung open before he even realized while Seth scrambled to haul himself bodily across the seats which took precious long seconds they possibly couldn't afford wasted and so the second his feet hit, the copper blonde took off.

"Roman?"

"Argh – ,"

He could hear the sounds of scrapping as he breathlessly pelted around the front of the van, but the blood was pumping so hard throughout his system that the noises became mixed up and sort of blended into one so that he wasn't too sure whose fist was making contact or if the snarls were Roman-based or maybe from their killer clown.

Rounding the front of the vehicle cleared things up a bit, because it turned out that the mildly possessed sounding lip curls were being bitten out right into Roman's face while their big dog tried to push off his attacker who was sitting on top of him mostly straddling his chest and holding his shirt front in tightly fisted fingers as he snapped and shook him and fucking _barked_ like a hound.

Dean bellowed at him,

" _Hey_."

It brought the white face his way and the head pulled that weird fucking _tilting_ thing again, but Dean was moving way too fast to be thrown off by it and so keeping low he launched forward and tackled the psychopath off his friend.

He realized that it had probably not been his very _best_ idea when he was halfway upside down in a flip through the air, as the force of his propulsion somersaulted both of them over and then sent them bouncing in a roll across the ground.

By the time they finally stopped they were lying ten feet from the vehicle and also from Roman who looked a lot like he'd been stunned, but which the copper blonde was unable to investigate any further since, for a bulky man in lycra who was clearly older than the rest of them, the freaky phantom clown moved _hellaciously_ fast and so had popped back up onto his feet like a bouncy ball while Dean was still blinking up into the stars.

He had rolled right over what felt like a fucking _boulder_ and it was poking him hard in one kidney –

Ouch.

" _Dean_ – ,"

He turned his head at the nasally sounding bellow to find Seth stood a way off hauling their older brother up, but both of them were looking towards him in a horror that made his brows furrow in and his insides tense up.

Huh?

Feet crunching over the terrain clued him in again and he looked up to find the clown moving in hot and trying to pull something from the folds of the big stage coat which was covering the worst of the lurid lycra up.

 _Fuck_.

It would be a gun –

Maybe a knife –

How about a baseball bat?

Either way the black eyes were focused fully on him and Dean cursed once again for having stashed his trusty weapon and for the fact that none of them had been prepared for a fight. In terms of being policemen it was a pretty rookie error and one that would possibly end up costing him his life and so he held up his hands and screwed his face up a little in horrible expectation.

He was _not_ expecting a screech of wheels, or a flash of headlights as another vehicle pitched up on them, hitting the brakes way too close to where he was and then tossing a shower of loose fragments clean over him which rained down across his face and made him cough,

"What the fuck?"

He was still spitting bits out when the car door swung open and an unexpectedly small looking figure hopped out sporting a bald head and a wide eyed expression as he charged in between them with his arms thrown out,

"No, is okay."

He had a thick and broken sounding accent which was frankly the least of their many concerns and which Seth then choose to encapsulate perfectly by barking in bewilderment,

"Who the hell are you?"

"Dink."

"Excuse me?"

"That is my friend Doink."

Fluttering his hand lightly up against his breastbone the newcomer then turned to gesture towards the _terrifying clown man_ who had continued to stand looking at Dean with blown pupils and his left hand still ominously tucked inside his coat.

Roman frowned,

"Doink?"

"We are children's entertainers."

It was a toss up as to which one of them would react to the word first, but in the end it was their youngest and very loudest teammate who took the prize home as he choked on thin air,

" _Children_?"

Dink nodded like it was totally obvious,

"But of course."

" _Him_?"

Roman pointed a finger across the space to make sure, then indicated the face painted weirdo before them because the point seemed like something that needed clearing up, or else somehow underlining in big block capital letters since the thought of tattered wig and bulky body being near children was obviously bringing his father instincts to life. Evidently Dink and Doink would not be getting the go ahead to host his own precious baby's upcoming birthday fling.

Dink waved a hand towards his larger friend protectively,

"He – he sometime gets _confused_ when he drink but he no trouble."

Right.

Dean snorted in response to _that_ shit and the noise once more triggered the same fucking freaky head tilt thing, which the copper blonde was pretty sure would haunt his sleep forever. The hidden hand inside the coat folds shot suddenly out too and with such unbidden purpose that the policemen fully flinched at it and his brothers stepped forwards before all three of them stopped as they slowly clued into precisely what was happening and what was being held tight in the hand.

Between them they watched in a baffled sounding silence as the clown freak began to blow up a long balloon, with a loud squeaking noise as the thing got longer to the point where it would possibly buckle and explode. Having reached its full length he tied it off swiftly and then proceeded to twist the stupid length into shapes, pinching and rotating small sections in a whirlwind until finally he finished and handed the present his way.

Dean took it,

"Uh – ,"

It was a full balloon poodle with a pompom on the end of its tail and everything and which quite honestly would have likely impressed the living shit out of him had he not been so bewildered and blindingly overwhelmed.

Seth turned back to the much smaller newcomer,

"But he tried to attack Roman,"

"He was scared."

" _He_ was scared?"

Dean rolled over onto his kneecaps then tried to stand again as the incredulous bark bounced in off the trees and was halfway up still holding his balloon animal when a pair of familiar hands fell in around his arms and helped ease him up and onto his feet again with a low sounding rumble,

"You okay uce?"

"Uh, yeah."

Roman tousled a big hand through his tangle and then began to brush the asphalt chips from his head since the copper blonde had literally been covered in fragments like he had been out for too long in some sort of weird ass storm.

Behind them the freaky clown man was standing impassively but swaying on his feet a little in the breeze and for the first time Dean could smell the heady waft of alcohol which implied that the guy had been knocking back the hooch.

Seth let out a groan and then flapped his hands,

"Get him outta here."

He was referring to the badly wobbling one man circus show and in response to him the smaller man bobbed his head thankfully and then blew out a breath like he had been bracing for a fight and which was further enhanced by the roll of his shirt sleeves and the way his meaty hands had been curled into balls.

He scuttled across the space and then seized his pal bodily like a mother who had managed to find her wandering child and the weird black eyes swung towards the minute figure before blinking back lethargically like a lizard on a rock.

"Dink."

He spoke then?

Probably figured.

"Yes man, is me, come on, I take you someplace nice and warm."

Dean still thought that the best _someplace_ for him was somewhere with locks and hourly medication rounds, but he chose not to press the point home too firmly since the main thing was getting the fucker good and gone and which weirdly turned out to be not so complicated since he simply followed his compatriot like a passive newborn lamb.

Doink followed to the front seat of the car and then slumped heavily while his friend clicked the belt in and then tapped him fondly on the chest,

"You be okay man."

Dink turned back towards the threesome and lifted his hand in a thankful parting wave, which Dean found himself responding to in bewilderment as they watched him pump the gas pedal and then pull away. Bright curly hair was the last look they had of him as the vehicle performed a U-turn then slung back onto the quiet road, at which point the copper blonde clicked his fingers sharply and barked into the night,

"We shoulda asked them to fetch us gas."

Roman snorted back at him,

"Bad news for you uce, looks like you're still walking to find some tomorrow morning at first light."

"Fantastic."

Seth spun towards them both in full appraisal and with a brow knit of concern,

"You two alright?"

Dean figured that it was probably a reasonable enough question considering that they had both been scrapping with a clown, but the answer to which was a little more complex based on whether he meant mental or _physical_ harm. Because sure his kidney hurt but he knew he would get over that, whereas he was pretty fucking _sure_ that for the rest of his existence he would bypass children's parties in an actual panicked run.

In the end he merely nodded,

"Uh huh, I'm fuckin' tired though."

Seth patted his shoulder,

"Me too man, me too."

Letting out sigh Roman turned for the surveillance van and his teammates followed then quietly bedded themselves back in, with each of them resuming their previous positions and which for Dean meant once more being cramped behind the wheel and in the front seats which looked out on the spookily twisted treeline which actually looked _worse_ when he turned the headlights off.

He tossed and turned for a few minutes and then let out a grumble,

"Fuckin' move over uce,"

"What?"

"I'm comin' through."

Bleeding through the seats he trampled onto the backseat and although there wasn't really room for the both of them the much bigger man who was already in residence simply lifted his feet and let his middle brother climb in and fold himself wearily onto the cushion beside him, choosing not to ask about his sudden need to be close. Dean hated horror films and his best friends both knew it although Seth let out a teasing little snort,

"Ha."

"Shut up man."

Five minutes later though when a loose branch hit the van roof, the youngest man clambered briskly in between the back seats too and plopped himself in the middle of his brothers.

"Not a fucking word Dean."

Sleep came easier after that.

* * *

 **Ta-da! Okay, be nice to me here guys. Did I scare anyone other than myself or did you know where I was going the whole time?**

 **Next week; Dean 'gets these hands' and a whole lot of trouble...because, naturally.**


	19. All Fall Down

**Welcome back all. Not sure where this one came from but I suddenly had this pop into my head and it had to be written. But it could also be titled 'how does Dean get himself into these situations?'**

 **Skovko, You know, I don't even blame Stephen King for my clown phobia. A children's entertainer type clown proposed to me when I was seven in front of a packed restaurant and everyone laughed, so that's where mine comes from! But yeah, I guess I could have thrown in plenty of clowns, but just the one seemed enough (plus I had to write it, so too many clowns would have freaked me right out!)**

 **Guest, Aww, thank you!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Nooo, your poor friend, what a horrible thing to do! Clowns are just the worst. How any child would ever be entertained by a face painted idiot is totally beyond me! Glad you liked the suspense. I really wanted to do a spooky story but wasn't sure I could necessarily pull it off. I mean, I scared myself but that's pretty easy really!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Me too, clowns are horrific and should be banned. Period. As for your request, it's not exactly what you asked for, but I do have a story featuring Dean and Roman's daughter coming up (eventually). No danger but there is a lot of cuteness and some good old fashioned brother stuff as well. I try not to do too much that feels 'samey' (I hope) so with any luck when that one comes round it will be kind of what you're looking for. But I hear you, Dean with kids is super cute!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, *curtseys* Thank you kindly.**

 **Minnie1015, Yeah, it did have a Dean-meets-Dean sort of vibe to it I guess! Except isn't it Sam that hates clowns? Frankly I think everyone should hate clowns but that's just me (and you too evidently!) The idea for the ending was one of the first things I came up with. Because who wouldn't want to cuddle up to Roman for safety right?!**

 **Cheryl24, I'm not sure what that is and I'm not sure I want to! But suffice to say Braun causes some mayhem and destruction (major mayhem, because he's a pretty big dude after all). I wrote this one when he was teaming with the kid though, so it was kind of hard to make him totally bad *shakes fist* damn you Braun for being so likeable!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Yeah, it seems like Doink can't catch a break in real life or in fiction. My bad on the latter one though I guess. Oops! I'm not sure it wouldn't break my heart too much to write about Dean having just lost her. It would be too bleak. Plus I'm not sure I could write Seth turning on him either because Seth is good in this series and I love him like that. But you never know, one day I may feel up to the challenge!**

 **Cherry619, Dean is a pretty rational person (sort of…perhaps I mean visual person?) Either way, I figure that makes him fine with crooks and bandits and murderers etc. but not so good at things he can't work out. Except for Bigfoots. He loves himself a bigfoot. But clowns not so much!**

 **Derick Lindsey, I should have thrown in a 'zoinks' or Seth in the background like Scrappy Doo with the whole 'put 'em up, put 'em up!' Never fear, Roman in danger is coming up soon. But I loved the visual of Dean being thrown around by Braun from their match back in the day too much to pass up. Roman is going to have his own enemies soon enough that…so hang on for that one!**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Hey, glad I caught you by surprise a little bit and glad you liked the story. Am I allowed to say that I'm not a big fan of Steve Austin? Am I allowed to say that or is that like wrestling blasphemy? Shane would be great. But I would need to think of something for him, since his sister is the Commissioner and his father is the Mayor. Can't have him as the poor relation!**

 **CrazyMichelle12, Aww, thank you so much. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Thank you for reviewing too. I love to know when new folks jump aboard. Plenty more to come from our three boys!**

 **December, Probably, but creepy unspeaking clowns are still pretty scary so you can blame Seth all that much for wanting to bunk down close with his bros! Glad you liked it though and thanks for reviewing. Hope you like this one too!**

 **Rebel8954, Ah yes, the many faces of poor Doink. But no, I went with drunken Doink in this one. Maybe to give Dean a break as much as anything, since I do tend to put him through it a bit. Yeah, Seth likes to talk up a good game, but at the end of the day he can be a scaredy cat too. He is the little brother after all I guess!**

 **Mandy, Oh my goodness, I'm so very sorry to hear about your grandmother. I cannot imagine how hard things must be for you right now. Sending love and hugs and any support I can. There's no right or wrong way to feel right now, so you just get through it however you need to. My writing will be here whenever you need it. I hope it helps a little.**

 **Okay, get these hands…**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: All Fall Down**

Bruised looking clouds were beginning to form above him as he flipped his collar higher and lowered his head into the folds, before quickening his pace in the hopes of outrunning what was shaping up to be the mother of all thunderstorms.

In his head he was running through the three coffee orders that he'd been muttering on repeat since having left their warehouse base, or at least he had certainly been muttering _one_ of them. Roman and he had wanted pretty simple things. Seth on the other hand had babbled some words to him that may as well have been in another language for all he knew and which had then needed to be lengthily and meticulously broken down to him on the basis that otherwise he would forget what they meant. He repeated it again as the first rain spot hit him and bounced off his nose which made him flinch sharply,

 _Crap_.

"Grande quad, non-fat, one pump, no-whip mocha."

In total he knew what maybe two of those words meant and had only been able to remember the thing fully by fitting the words into a tune he could sing and which had passed through several well known variations before slotting into _Smells Like Teen Spirit_ like a dream.

Roman had simply wanted a tall Americano. Much easier to memorize but without the catchy beat, but again then even _that_ order was better than his own choice which was a black coffee neat because he needed the caffeine and their machine back in the office had gone on the fritz.

Right when they had needed it too.

"Freakin' figures."

Like with most things in life, he blamed their boss –

Steph.

Because if her blood red colored nails hadn't slapped three new case files gleefully down in front of them with a smug little grin, then they wouldn't have spent the past _forty-eight hours_ hunched in front of their computers and breathing in caffeine like air and so _therefore_ their coffee machine wouldn't have overheated or thrown its tools across the room with a puff of smoke and a hiss.

More freezing rain hit his brow line without warning and it made him startle and snap out a curse,

"Fuck."

It seemed like the winter had been lingering on forever in a heavy rotation of either snow, sleet or hail, to the point where he felt like he had forgotten the warmth of sunshine or what it was even like to have hot breeze on his face. His lips were chapped from the constant hammering of weather and he licked at them roughly which he knew made them worse, but which was frankly the only option he had left open to him and had been since his fiancée had –

Uh.

 _Gone away_.

Because _she_ had always had a million types of lip balm and a tiny little tin for each room of their place, as well as an assortment to put in every purse front which she would whip out at random before offering it across and usually in response to him chewing some loose skin off which she would hit him lightly for then make him rub on fruit schmutz.

He had especially like the little tin of cherry raspberry flavor –

In fact he probably still had it safely tucked away back home and so was mentally debating the benefits of finding it and maybe slipping it in his coat when the rain clouds above him opened up full force and then began to throw out such torrents of water that it was like some sort of storm based apocalypse was hitting in. Freezing cold rain beat him so hard it was _painful_ and so he broke into a run still mumbling as he went,

"Grande quad, non-fat, one pump, no-whip mocha."

How had rain had started on _his_ coffee run?

Fuck.

Based on the fact that their warehouse was dockside and that the neighborhoods near the port were largely pretty rough, there was only one really good coffee place in the borough and so therefore that was where all three of them had to shop, since it was frankly the only one in a hundred mile radius that would even have _tried_ to make their tech man's fussy coffee mix and had become the only place the man trusted to get right. Even if it was a near fifteen minute walk away.

Dean blinked into the cold rain bravely as he tried to sidestep those hustling past him on the street, bumping into him as they struggled to pull their hoods up or else battling umbrellas into some vague type of shape. In response to a large bead ploughing straight into his eyeball he barked out roughly then lurched to one side, where _he_ then promptly smacked into another figure or potentially a building since whatever it was it was super wide. It grunted back at him in measures of unhappiness.

Not a building then.

"Aw hell, m' sorry man, I took a rain spot in the eyeball an' _fuck_ that stings y' know – ,"

He looked up ruefully and then stopped.

Holy crap.

Dark brown eyes blazed back at him hotly but from a bizarrely lofty height because the man was hella tall. He was wide too but thick like the body was all muscle which was probably on account of the fact it fucking _was_ and there was also a beard that bloomed wild around his features and then hung from his chin a little bit too much. Half an inch less and it would have been sort of normal, but the extra bit of length tipped it over the edge and into a look that was sort of _unsettling_ and wasn't really helped by the fact he wouldn't blink.

"Watch where you're going asshole."

"Uh, fuck, sorry."

Dean stumbled a little as the hulk elbowed him aside and then began to plod along the street with his head up like the rain wasn't blowing straight into his eyes. Dean stared after him and then frowned to himself a little, because the windswept rain smeared face that had practically been on top of him was _totally_ one that he had seen before.

 _Where_?

He blitzed his way through a quick mental series of options and then turned each one away because they weren't the right fit. He hadn't seen the guy at the gym or in his building and he knew he would have remembered if the man mountain had been a cop.

He blinked again.

 _Hmmm_.

He really needed that coffee because evidently without one his stupid brain refused to work, so he shrugged to himself mildly and then pulled his collar higher as he went to move on.

Realization hit him hard.

"Fuck."

Because suddenly he knew _precisely_ who the behemoth was and the answer was by no means a long lost or happy one.

He fumbled for his phone, ploughing his hand into his pocket and then pulling it loose and out into the rain. His last cell had been broken when he had been kidnapped by a murderer who had then turned out to be one of a pair and after which he had been hauled by Seth to the nearest phone store to buy himself an _apparently_ much needed upgrade. It had taken three hours and a hell of a lot more money than he was frankly prepared to pay for _any_ freaking thing, but in the end it had seemed the only way to get out of there and besides which Seth had seemed happy with the choice.

It was a flimsy looking thing no thicker than a credit card and so the heavy freezing rain slickened the thing up at once and meant that he almost dropped it into a puddle before simultaneously swearing then catching it mid-fall. He punched in a number and then held it to his earlobe as he turned to trample his way back along the street, frowning ahead of him through the silvery torrent and finally putting eyes on the freakishly tall man.

His younger brother picked up with a sigh of frustration on the third or fourth ring,

" _I told you three times man, a grande quad_ – ,"

Dean interrupted him,

"I'm lookin' at Braun Strowman."

Perhaps unsurprisingly the response was a barked one because the name he had muttered above the blowing of the megastorm was one he and his teammates had been looking at for hours and a moniker that had been circulating for a few weeks before that since Braun Strowman was the latest bad boy of their patch and one that the boss lady had asked them to search out. Bumping into him on the sidewalk had not been part of their plan though and evidently therefore was kind of hard to compute,

" _What_?"

"I'm serious man, he's walkin' right in front 'a me."

" _Dean where are you_?"

"Like a block from the coffee place."

" _Stay there okay_?"

He noted the words were sort of bitten out at him but wasn't surprised in the overall scheme of things, because not only were his teammates and brothers super protective with a tendency to parent and fret over him, but also because the man he was following was the most formidable fucker they had faced in a while, who had burst onto the scene in a series of bank robberies which had left people bruised and one poor teller shot. Plus he had fists the size of meat cleavers and had by no means been shy of using those too.

Dean swept a cold bead of rainwater from his lashes which turned out to be pointless since it was pretty rapidly replaced and then narrowed his beam in as Strowman turned a corner and promptly vanished from his line of sight.

Crap.

He picked up the pace.

" _Dean_?"

"It's fine, I'm hangin' back man."

Except that part wasn't _entirely_ true, because instead he had broken into a breathless sort of hurtle that pounded hard between the puddles and sprayed rainwater up his legs. By the time he made it back inside into the warm again it was likely he would look like he had managed to piss himself but in the moment the risk seemed totally worth it to take a brute off the streets.

" _Are you running_?"

"Nope."

" _Dean_."

Launching round the corner in hot pursuit of his target he very nearly wiped a little old lady fully out but thankfully managed to pull some fancy footwork which meant that he missed her but which still produced a startled yelp and then somehow even broke the handle of her carrier because a bunch of bouncy oranges began to tumble out, before proceeding to roll like tennis balls into the puddles and towards the flooded guttering like something straight out of The Great Escape. In response to the loosening or else in sheer terror since it was likely she thought that she was potentially being mugged, the elderly woman sort of loosened a sharp scream out and at once every head that had been running through the cloudburst stopped and turned to look.

Including Braun Strowman.

 _Fuckity fuck_.

From over the twenty or so feet in between them the lawman and the human mountain briefly locked eyes and a beat passed by which seemed to last for several millennia but in reality was maybe half a second or less.

Recognition clicked –

Braun took off running and the copper blonde promptly sprinted after him.

"Ah shit."

" _Dean what's happening_?"

"Minor change of plans here, nothin' to worry 'bout 'cept I'm not exactly hangin' back at the moment."

" _What_?"

Dean fully vaulted a chalkboard outside a shop front like he had been entered into a derby and was hunting first place, but his speed meant the rain was sheeting in hard and blinding him and blowing in his mouth so he could barely even breathe.

For a man that was the size of a bus or a tramcar, Braun Strowman turned out to move impressively fast as he weaved through the streets and parked vehicles and took sharp turns and began to lead them further into the rough parts of the docks. Decaying warehouse buildings from the boom era of the city rose up on either side of them as they chased a path through and the store fronts and houses and the number of people started to thin out rapidly too. Fifty years earlier the industrial buildings would have been bustling but then air travel had kicked in and because their city had limited money, the warehouses which had largely been left to fade away, leaving a weird and largely uninhabited ghost town that spread for a mile or more.

It was creepy to say the least.

" _Dean where are you_?"

He wasn't too certain and was choking so hard on the rain that it was hard to respond and so in the end he spluttered out the only words he could think of or feasibly manage in the moment,

"Old docks."

" _Hang on man, we're coming, don't do anything crazy_."

Dean snorted back and then let the cell fall because he needed both hands out to help keep his balance as he skidded on the slushy and long forgotten terrain and also tried to follow the zigzagging behemoth who was leading him on an unhappily merry sort of jig. Braun vanished into a building and so he tailed him but panted into a space that was completely empty.

"The fuck?"

Inside the hefty structure the building was hollow and a shell of what it had been once upon a time, littered as it was with large chunks of the ceiling which had begun to fall in huge fragments throughout the years and had strewn masonry and broken wood and metal strut bars and other pieces across the untidy and pockmarked ground and which was therefore also letting in the pounding torrent that the clouds were refusing to quit putting out.

He stopped.

Where was Strowman?

His spidey-senses tingled or whatever the hell his _own_ variation would have been called and then turned too late to stop the big man erupting from where he had been hidden flattened up beside the wall. In fact Dean only caught him in the corners of his periphery as the hammer sized fist ploughed in towards his head.

Crap.

He ducked hastily then stumbled back, which knocked the slickened cell phone out of his hand completely and tossed it so hard to the floor that it knocked the battery out and so cut off the call. Dean hoped it wasn't _dead_ dead. He wasn't sure he could take another three hours inside a phone store listening to the salesman bickering with Seth about minutes and plans and pixels and shit.

Braun roared loudly.

"Argh."

 _Oh right_.

Mountain man.

Bobbing back up from his stoop beneath the roundhouse the copper blonde responded with a right hook of his own which blasted pleasingly into the features but then very nearly tangled within the bushy beard. Braun mumbled back at him but barely flinched otherwise since it probably would have taken nothing short of a wrecking ball to have made the huge monolith even marginally move and in fact the punch only served to rile him further since he threw his head back and straight up roared, like a lion calling his pride or some really pissed off bigfoot.

He swung both of his fists out in rapid succession which forced Dean to have to choose which one to try and block whilst knowing that the other would probably catch him heavily and then being proven right when the wind was blasted from his ribs.

"Oof – ,"

He coughed and was then flung into the air a little because the hit to the sternum had been swung low then up hard and so had literally managed to toss him back a few steps before planting him heavily onto his knees.

 _Ouch_.

Roman and Seth were welcome to show up at any time now and even out the bulk factor.

Braun bellowed at him,

"Damn cops."

He went to stomp back in to hand out his second roundhouse or potentially to squash the copper blonde like a bug, but then stopped in confusion as Dean blew a pained puff out and then held up a hand,

"Hold on, lemme have a second first."

He had one arm wound tenderly around his bruised ribs, but wasn't prepared to lay back and die and the knowledge of that seemed to tickle the bigger man, who snorted then painted on an uneasy looking smile like he relished the continued unevenly matched fistfight,

"I think I'm going to like breaking you in half."

Before the copper blonde had the chance to clamber upright the bulky bank robber was storming back in and so Dean continued to labor for a second like he physically couldn't move but then he swung his own fist –

His whole _arm_ in fact which charted a path upwards in a well-timed blast between the bigger man's legs and right into the spot which felt kind of _mushy_ but hopelessly tender no matter who it was or how big their muscles were, because there was one place on the body that always _always_ brought results and Dean had never been adverse to having to use it if the choice was between a low blow or getting his head stomped.

Red cheeked pain blossomed fast across the features as the man mountain clapped big hands to his throbbing balls.

 _Ooooh_.

Dean hauled himself back up onto his feet again still wincing mildly and clutching his bruised chest, but at least he was upright and in better condition than the hulkster who was trying to figure whether or not he could still have kids. Hopefully not but Dean roughly brushed aside _that_ thought in favour of kicking out the kneecap instead, burying his boot heel clean into the back of it and then looking on as his foe toppled into a kneel. Braun looked a little like he was proposing to someone but instead of a ring he had murderous intent which he then made clear as he flashed a massive hand out and briskly took hold of the leather jacket by the cuff.

Dean ground to a halt,

"Crap."

"You're gonna live to regret that, _I am going to make you fall_."

Braun straight up screamed the last words and sure enough his tones bit out higher than earlier which was probably on account of his testicles being squashed or else the red blooded fury of them having been hit in n the first place. Either way the tones sounded none too pleased and got worse as the bigger man began to haul himself uprights, pulling on the sleeve like he was climbing a rope and nearly pulling Dean right off his feet with it.

Fuck.

Dean had no choice but to lose the whole jacket so unzipped the thing hastily before twisting himself loose, which made his vision spin and pitch momentarily but left Braun on the floor with the empty garment in his hand. It looked like he was holding the clothes for a baby since the fashion burnished leather seemed too tiny in his hands and not for the first time the copper blonde had to wonder what kind of woman had given birth to the man. Poor thing had probably never moved right _since_ then because there was no freaking way the man monster had come out small.

Dean grinned back,

"Sorry Kong but – like – no freakin' dice here since I'm pretty sure this ends with me takin' you in. Better let me know if you've got dietary requirements, 'cos m' thinkin' they'll probably wanna know that in the penn."

Braun bellowed back.

 _Literally_.

He actually bellowed at him like a wounded bull moose or a hippo or something, before suddenly bursting right up off his kneecaps with such speed and purpose that it took Dean by surprise and left him with less than a split fucking second to throw himself bodily off to one side. He launched to the left and then hit the floor harshly with a bark of unhappiness that burst from his mouth as for about the second time in as many freaking minutes, the wind was pushed clean out of his lungs.

"Oof – ,"

Braun however kept on travelling since he had committed himself totally to the full bodied spear so therefore blitzed past like a nuclear propelled rocket before tumbling into the space where the copper blonde had been stood. Instead of hitting the lawman however he hit a thick post with his shoulder super hard, the impact of which was so freaking colossal that it genuinely cut the column in half. Piling through the strut the big guy landed clumsily and with the broken wooden support lying in pieces around his bulk, but which for the moment seemed like the least of their many problems.

Right up until something above them creaked.

Huh?

In having taken out the upright pole like a wrecking crew Braun had evidently removed a weight bearing support, which had been propping up a shabby looking mezzanine level that seemed wildly unhappy at having lost its only prop. Pieces of boarding and timber began to rain on them and then the whole floor to flexed like it was made of plexiglass.

Crap.

It was going to fucking collapse right on top of them and knowing it Dean waved his hand towards Braun and then barked over the space in between them.

"Get out man, get out."

But it was far too late for that, because the next thing he knew the flexing movement had gone further and instead the floor above them was breaking in half and tumbling towards them like a masonry avalanche and throwing up so much dust and big hunks of building that it was almost like being stood before a rubble based wave. Dean tried to run but was too slow to beat it and so as a boulder or some plasterwork or a freaking piece of _something_ bounced off his hairline he felt himself fall forward hard and hit the floor limply like an oversized ragdoll before his world and everything in it turned black.

He knew nothing and no one for the next several hours, or minutes or seconds –

He wasn't too sure.

But what _was_ pretty clear when he blinked into the light again, beneath a pair of scruffy and tightly screwed up brows, was that something was wrong and in a catastrophically big way.

Pain.

He was feeling quite a bit of pain too.

"Ugh."

Focusing his blue eyes on the space right in front of him delivered the sight of the battered building floor and the empty expanse of the unloved warehouse which hadn't changed a lot from when he had seen it before. He was lying on his front face first and with his hands spread but couldn't remember when he'd taken the fall and so tried to roll himself onto his back to sit up again but which then proved impossible.

He straight up couldn't move.

"Huh? What the – ,"

A wave of red hot panic burst through him as his awareness and his nerve ending burst back to life and made him aware of a pressure on his body pressing with a worrying force on his back.

He was being pinned into place by some sort of –

What was it?

Rolling his head as far as he was able he tried to look back at a point beyond his shoulder and then pretty promptly wished that he hadn't even tried, because the vista behind him was not a reassuring one.

Half of the mezzanine was lying _on_ him.

He had been _buried alive._

Oh god.

He scrabbled with his hands on the loose floor in a panic because those two words more than any other in the language were like a literal knife to his heart and had been ever since he had been snatched by Kevin Owens and then thrown into a coffin and trapped beneath a ton of earth. In an instant the feelings he had experienced in that moment flooded back into him like some horrific wave and the breath began to squeak and wheeze out of him as his lungs constricted and limited the air.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

He had to get out of there but the next few minutes of blindly frantic clawing got him nowhere and filled his fingernails up with grit, as well as making him feel all sweaty and nauseous.

"Help."

His voice sounded even more raspy than usual and in bellowing he somehow managed to suck some loose fragments in, which then set him off in a volley of coughing that rattled his ribcage and banged him up into the beam. Because that was what he figured was pinning his body since it was long and heavy and impossibly strong and so therefore frankly it was some sort of fucking miracle that he hadn't been totally and utterly crushed.

Dean began to silently thank every pantheon in his retinue _or_ that he had ever heard preached to on film, because as far as he could fathom it the beam that was pinning him had fallen clean over the concave curve of his waist and so had therefore not caused any major lasting damage but meant he could neither move forward nor reverse and nor could he heft the stupid thing off him since he was marooned on his front and couldn't turn around.

His ankle was trapped too beneath some rubble or something only he couldn't really see it because he was covered in crap, not to mention wood and sheets of corrugated iron which were acting like the least comfortable blanket in the world. Rain was cascading through the holes in the roofline and trickling in unhelpful rivulets across his face and without the thick leather the temperature was freezing and then made him shiver as it cascaded along his neck.

He blew out a breath and shut his eyes.

 _Calm down man._

Dean heard the words in his head in Seth's voice and the nasally tones and wisdom in them settled him and slowed his pounding heart rate. Maybe a bit. He wasn't buried alive. Not even remotely. Because _this_ time he wasn't trapped underground or in pitch black and he could breathe, see the sky and feel the rain in his tangle.

He was trapped but he was _not_ buried alive.

He simply had to figure a plan to get out of there since scrabbling and trying to pull himself loose hadn't worked and so he tried his vaguely pathetic backup plan second time while trying not to inhale more dust particles than air.

"Hey, I'm trapped, I could use some freakin' help here."

Nothing.

Nobody.

 _Calm down man._

Dean sucked a breath in and then was hit by another problem because where in the name of holy Bigfoot was Braun? Looking left and right he tried to catch sight of him but could only see mounds of rubble lying about and most of which seemed to be centred on the area that the human mountain had been sprawled in when the floor had fallen down. It seemed like the chances of surviving it were minimal but Dean couldn't be one hundred percent sure and so he reached out his hand and picked up some rubble before throwing it behind him in what he hoped was a clean hit.

"Hey Strowman, can you hear me? Come on y' big animal."

He grimaced at the silence.

Nope.

Evidently not.

In his head he was picturing the big oversized body twisted and smushed beneath the weight of the floor and the thought of it made his whole stomach roll over because his imagination never seemed to much do anything by halves. His heart stopped suddenly as a creaking rang out above him and Dean craned his neck round to try and get a better look.

His face fell,

"Shit."

Half the mezzanine was still hanging and bobbing much like it was caught in a breeze, but with every last movement and without the weight of the strut to hold it the thing was pulling at the main fucking wall and with a motion that made it look as though the thing was close to caving which if true really _would_ have fucking buried him whole.

He went back to his plan of scrabbling pretty rapidly because _surely_ he could find a way to haul himself out or else lower his hips enough to squeeze beneath the beam in a weird sort of floor based limbo perhaps? But then even if he _could_ his ankle was still trapped firmly and the cuff of his pant leg to be seemed snagged on something too like a nail or a hook or who the fuck _knew_ what.

He coughed again,

"Come on, is there anybody there?"

Frankly he would have given his left arm for a hobo or a moth eaten street hound that could have led someone to him rather than the sound of the upper floor creaking and the relentless fucking rain beating hard on his brow.

Roman and Seth were out somewhere looking for him and he knew that inherently, but they weren't fucking _there_ and the thought of them being too late to haul his ass loose again or else having to identity his flattened body in the morgue, fired a fierce burst of willpower right through him because there was no way he was leaving them.

He couldn't give up.

Previously when he had been up to his neck in the rough stuff and blinking into the barrel of a metaphorical gun, he had let himself pretty much fade into the moment and had instead thought of his girl and being with her again. Death had never really massively bothered him because for the longest time his life had been a hollow sort of sham. But with his two brothers and his best friends back something had shifted and _fuck it_ but he lately seriously wanted to live and not only that but he was fully prepared to fight for it because his boys were important and they gave him life.

Plus Seth still owed him about six dollars fifty from lunch the week before.

He needed that back.

Behind him he could hear what was left of the mezzanine creaking and buckling and so he buried his fingers in then prepared to kick and scrape himself to freedom because come what may he was hauling himself loose. He began to count backwards through clenched teeth to prepare himself,

"Five, four, three – ,"

But his big moment was interrupted by a roar of pure anger and then by the sound of masonry shifting as it was propelled from its resting place by an unearthly force which physically burst from the rubble like a swamp beast or some creature from a nightmare.

Braun was back.

"What the fuck?"

It honestly seemed impossible and yet there the oversized behemoth freaking was, looking a little bit battered admittedly and with a beard full of dust but undeniably _up_ and therefore not smushed which was kind of a pity really because the copper blonde lawman had been in enough trouble and so needed the big man like a hole in the cranium.

Not that life ever worked out that way of course.

For a second the monolith stood blinking into the warehouse like he couldn't remember what in the hell had gone on, or why he had woken up buried beneath rubble, but then the brown eyes turned and the memories tore back. Dean could physically see them arriving like some train pulling up at the station too late and which was mirrored in the steam that began to pour from the big ears, or _would_ have had it been humanly possible he guessed.

Not good.

Dean tried fiercely to kick his way to freedom as the beard covered features pulled themselves into a grin at the realization that the copper blonde was helpless and so was therefore pretty ridiculously easy prey. In response to it Dean tried his best to push the beam up, bracing his hands on the floor like he could bench press the thing off. Naturally it failed though.

Braun cracked his knuckles,

"Didn't I promise I was going to break you in half?"

"Come on man, I mean, I tried to warn you about the buildin', I like basically tried to save your life, remember that?"

"I remember you burying your fist into my ballsack."

"Oh, uh – ,"

Dean figured a _sorry_ wouldn't work and so simply continued to try and push himself upright as Braun strode around clearly looking for something, which could have been anything from an overgrown whisker to the _how to kill_ book he probably had.

Dean tried again,

"Look this place is gonna cave here, so whatever you're thinkin' it's pretty pointless man,"

"Maybe to you."

Braun continued to circle the warehouse while what was left of the collapsed floor swayed overhead, but which seemed to bother him on about the same level as the biplanes on the Empire State Building had bothered King Kong. He stopped every so often to kick at some rubble or to root through it for buried treasure before then muttering and moving on so that even as he tried to keep squirming from his prison, the copper blonde couldn't help but hesitantly look on. Maybe the man was a fan of brutalist architecture and was simply looking to see how the building had been put up?

It was a thought that was blown however ten seconds later when the big man mountain suddenly bent low and swept something up, hauling it from beneath a brick pile and which made his new toy bang loud against the floor and then grate and scrape along it as he towed it behind him.

Dean swallowed rapidly.

Braun was holding a metal pipe.

It had been a little bent by the unexpected tumble. but otherwise was long and thick and sturdy and therefore sort of perfect for caving in skulls.

Dean clawed the ground,

"No, no, you gotta be kiddin' me."

"I never kid."

"So _this_ is your thanks for me tryin' to get you out?"

It seemed a rough thing because while the _first_ motive the copper blonde had been working had been to tackle and arrest the guy, the second that the mezzanine had started wobbling above them he had instinctively switched into heroic police mode. He had shouted a warning and been the bigger man for once and yet his reward for that was scraping in towards him across the floor and moving in closer with each oversized footstep until even _thinking_ about it made his head feel sore.

Dean swallowed,

"Look man, maybe we can talk about this?"

Beneath the fallen boulders he was still struggling like wild and trying to heave loose his badly snagged ankle, not to mention whatever the hell was hanging onto his pant cuffs. He tensed up his face and then threw his body into it which sort of had a varied effect, because while his ankle finally shifted beneath the rubble, the movement threw his spine up into the beam and further hurt what he assumed was some pretty bad bruising and then made him both hiss and cuss in pain.

Fuck.

Braun stopped less than a metre from his forehead but was so fucking tall his face was lost in the clouds so that all Dean could see were the overly massive boot tips and a pair of legs that were the width of freaking trees. Braun lifted the pipe high and Dean covered his head instinctively like his fingers alone could somehow protect his skull and which therefore muffled the low sounding laughter that rumbled out above him,

"Get these hands."

Huh?

It seemed like a pretty bizarre note to choose to leave on and if that was his villain tagline then holy hell it needed work, but in the moment that thought passed him by pretty swiftly as the oversized feet rocked back onto their heels and were followed by a grunt as the behemoth threw the pipe up then honed in on the head.

Dean braced for blinding pain –

But luckily the hammer blow never quite happened because instead the building was rocked by a bang, which seemed to echo from every inch of surface until the warehouse was humming and so were his ears. Braun too seemed surprised by the sudden interruption but far more from a bodily stance as he stumbled backwards letting the pipe slip from his fingers and blinking at a stain blooming across his shoulder blade.

Blood.

He had been shot.

Dean twisted his neck sideways and then blew a breath out and let his head fall in, planting it heavily into the flooring but not caring about the masonry that stuck to his cheeks, because standing on the threshold were two familiar figures with their firearms pointed upwards.

Roman and Seth.

 _Fucking finally man_.

Both of them stepped further into the crumbling warehouse but it was the more bouncy of the two who spoke up first and in nasally tones of barely held fury also intermingled with energy and sass,

"Hands up Strowman."

Dean mumbled wearily from face first on the floor,

"Get _those_ hands."

"What?"

Seth blinked back at him in measures of bewilderment but swiftly bypassed the conversation to keep his eyes on the mountain man.

Smart.

His younger brother had always been the bright one. Dean felt like at some point he should have probably told him that but then rapidly lost that thought in a body bucking shiver that broke through his bones and made him rattle like mad. Had it always been that cold or had the temperature fallen suddenly?

Rainwater was beginning to find the nooks in his clothes to the point that freezing rivulets were pouring from his hairline to create snaking rivers that burst over his back and then kept on flowing beneath his shirt to trace his spinal cord, which made the thin material pull heavily and _itch_. Boots stepped in closer but they were ones that he trusted, as his brothers moved themselves between their teammate and the bear sized man and then began their usual thing of fretting which was led by the powerhouse,

"You okay babe?"

Dean lifted his fingers in a wry circle.

"Freakin' awesome uce."

His tones quivered a bit and even with his face pressed earthwards the copper blonde knew that his tremors had caused alarm, because the next thing he knew their technical man was back to barking like the long seasoned cop he theoretically no longer was.

"Hands up where I can see them."

Dean heard a rattle of metal and looked up to see his teammate pulling out a pair of cuffs, which he figured would probably be too flimsy for the hulkster who likely could have snapped them like breaking a twig in the half, but were still a better option than having him standing there free to wield more piping with his remaining working arm. His massive meaty hands were pressed hard to the bullet wound which had pretty much been the textbook perfect fucking shot and his eyes were blazing in unwrought fury, but since he was unarmed there was little he could do.

Dean snorted in response.

His brothers had found him _and_ they were taking a crook off the streets too, which in their world counted as a pretty successful morning.

It was shame then that the building had other ideas. Because as Seth began to tread a cautious path towards their villain, part of the mezzanine promptly caved in and tossed a shower of masonry in front of him that made him slam the brakes on and then throw up his hands,

"Shit."

"Seth,"

Roman launched himself bodily towards it before hauling his little brother back out of the cascade, but the torrent of which threw up such a cloud of rubble that the bank robber behind it was briefly lost. Dean began to cough and was still badly spluttering when the miniature landslide finally stopped, to reveal a brand new pile of misshapen brickwork and the lamentable empty space where their behemoth had been. Seth could have raised the dead with his corresponding bellow, which bounced from the few walls that were still standing,

"Aw hell."

For a second he even looked like might take off running in the hopes of trailing or possibly shooting the guy, but he was stopped as the coughing behind him increased tenfold and the sound of his larger brother crunching over the floor,

"Uce?"

Dean wheezed heavily,

"M' okay."

"Uh huh, sounds like it."

"Dust an' broken buildin' an' that shit I guess."

He furthered his point by waving a loose hand about like he was trying to indicate the battered looking place, but which tweaked his back and the well-hidden bruises and made him hiss which his twitchy teammates noticed at once. Including Seth who looked one last time towards the exit that their bank robber had to have made his escape through and then blew a breath out and trampled in closer to the man he would always but always care for more.

"Dean, are you trapped under there?"

Blue eyes flickered up at him,

"No man, what do you think?"

"I meant _where_ are you trapped?"

The undercover man winced mildly,

"My back."

"Can you feel your feet uce?"

Roman offered the question out mildly but he couldn't hide the frisson that passed through the brown eyes and which then met the tech man who was also wearing worry, because naturally the both of them were concerned for his spine.

Dean waved a hand,

"There's somethin' on my ankle an' my pants are kinda snagged but everythin's workin' fine, an' by the way if you ever fuckin' hear me complainin' about havin' the waist of a ten year old boy again, then you totally have permission to punch me in the mouth or remind about this moment okay?"

Roman snorted back,

"Whatever you want babe."

But the teasing was interrupted by a familiar sounding creak as more of the mezzanine bobbing in place above them began to feel like it _too_ should tumble in. Except unlike before the section that was loosening was pretty much totally right over their heads.

"Uh, guys?"

"Hold on uce."

Roman moved instantly in a clumsy sort of trample through the fallen masonry piles, before beginning to toss aside the sections that were covering him and then motioning for Seth,

"Come on bro, help."

Dean lay still as they moved from his eye line but he could feel and hear them busily freeing him from behind and so instead he swiped the rainwater still pooling from his tangle like and stinging him right in the eyeballs.

"Fuck."

He hissed as the pressure on his ankle increased sharply but tapered off as Roman lifted a heavy something off and then tossed it roughly to one side with a grunting noise. Blood and a tingling sensation blasted through him and he moaned in thankfulness then tried to move his foot.

Roman stopped him,

"Hold still a second longer."

Dean felt the leg of his pants coming loose and then flexed his poor stiff ankle for the first time in forever, which hurt like a total bitch but otherwise felt good. Seth meanwhile was pulling up the twisted sheeting that was lying like an unhappy blanket across his back and which threw up more banks of grit and loose chippings but then finally uncovered what was holding him in place.

His bark was unhelpful,

"Oh wow."

Dean panicked,

"Is it – is it somethin' bad?"

Maybe his spinal cord had snapped or burst from his body somehow without him knowing about it and was poking straight out and into the sky, which he wasn't too sure was entirely possible but which he figured was an option at least on some scale.

Fingers ghosted over his lower back and made him startle,

"You are one lucky ass son of a bitch."

"Huh?"

In response to the observation the copper blonde lawman twisted to pretty much the furthest physical point that he could, which offered him a half view over his shoulder at his body and the beam that was pinning him in place. Seth was crouched in low beside him with his fingers on the huge strut that was blocking his hips, but which was also evidently counterbalanced on something because his brother could wiggle his fingertips beneath. None of the weight therefore was actually pushing on him and in the scheme of things that made for a very lucky break. Insomuch as being trapped beneath a building that was crumbling into pieces could ever be a _lucky_ thing.

From over their heads the mezzanine creaked louder, like it was possibly thinking the exact same thing and then flexed as a storm breeze blew in through the roofline and in response to it their powerhouse pushed Seth out of the way.

"When I shout, you pull uce free, okay?"

"Got it."

Dean heard some scrambling then feet appeared beside his head, followed by the tech man grabbing his hands up as he moved his throbbing ankle up and into place. It would probably hurt like a bitch and freaking _then_ some, but he figured he could maybe kick and push himself loose. Roman grunted from somewhere close behind them as he found a handhold on the broad metal strut and the copper blonde bit back a beam of sheer thankfulness for their big burly powerhouse.

Roman was way better than Braun.

Fragments of masonry began to bounce off them as the mezzanine floor tilted and tipped a little more and their technical wizard stiffened a little and barked out an unsure warning,

"Roman – ,"

" _Now_."

Dean kicked hard at the rubble pile behind him and but found too _much_ trajectory as his brother him pulled too, because as their big man lifted the beam an inch up on him with a bellow of exertion at the phenomenal weight, the copper blonde practically launched towards freedom in a slither across his stomach as his body was wrenched.

"Whoa,"

Seth toppled backwards and hauled Dean with him so that they both ended up in a tangle in the floor, with the undercover man between the legs of his brother so that his nose was practically buried in his crotch. It was not exactly the highlight of the rescue but at the same time it _was_ because he was out. Except _fuck_ his back ached so fucking badly and the soaking wet shirt front was buffing his skin red raw and he was half frozen and shaking and covered in broken building crap and his ankle was pulsating.

In short he was a mess.

"Uce?"

Broad hands landed firmly on his hip bones and pulled him back from the bundle with Seth before helping to haul him back up onto feet again as the mezzanine continued to wobble and creak. Dean straightened himself up feeling somewhere between one hundred and about one freaking _thousand_ years old since every last part of him felt stiff and sort of crippled and his storm water blasted clothes were like straitjacket folds.

"Ouch, fuck shit."

Seth scrambled upright,

"We need to get out of here."

He wasn't playing around, because not only was the half suspended floor beyond them flexing but the entire warehouse structure looked liable to break. Even the end wall was beginning to buckle, which made being stood in the middle pretty wildly unsafe. Roman slung his arm in tight around his brother and Dean responded instantly by bracing himself around the neck, while Seth meanwhile waved at them like he was possibly calling planes in.

"Come on man, come on."

It wasn't clear if he was shouting at one or else both of them, but either way his usual frantic hissing spurred them on and together they stumbled as a threesome through the rubble in a clumsy burst towards the nearest gaping hole in the walls. Behind them and around them and even _above_ them, the building shook and creaked a whole lot more and plaster and wood started to cascade from the framework and mix with the water to make the weirdest torrent in the world.

Rain hit him square in the face like a typhoon as they burst across the threshold and back out into the world, but then even _that_ seemed all the fricking sweeter for being natural and away from the structure that was buckling at their backs. Pieces of metal and debris bounced around then and Seth leapt over something and then cursed at it,

"Crap."

"Keep going uce."

The warehouse managed to stay upright until the three of them were maybe two hundred feet away and then there was a screaming and screeching of twisted metal and a hellacious rolling crash noise as the entire thing collapsed. Banks of dust and debris clouds blew straight past them and they slid to a halt unable to see ahead. Dean expected to be reburied at any moment and so tensed himself up in preparation for the repeat, but instead found himself blinking back into the daylight as the haze tapered off and left them intact. He spun around and then blinked because the battered building had vanished and instead been replaced with a heap of broken glass and twisted metal and pieces of broken beaming which looked like chicken skewers or a piece of modern art perhaps.

Dean blew a startled sounding breath out,

"We brought the house down."

"Damn straight babe."

Roman began to prod at his back, peeling up the wet and too heavy folds of fabric to take look at the beam based bruising for himself and falling so easily back into _mother hen mode_ that the copper blonde blew out a sigh of relief.

Seth brushed his hands through his long wet hairline in a frustrated sort of move that he used when he was stressed, like when the middle of his brothers pursued a wanted man monolith without any backup and when building then nearly landed on his head.

"Strowman got away."

Roman rumbled from behind them in his usual even tones,

"We'll find him and bring him in."

His fingers probed cool over the back of the bruised rib cage and Dean winced a little but leaned into them all the same and so was mildly relieved but also frustrated when they moved and the fabric was pulled back into place since it obviously meant that his injuries were minor but the touch had been soothing on his poor inflamed skin.

Dean blinked a few times.

It felt like the rain was stopping.

Looking up he was greeted with an actual ray of sun and he shut his eyes and tipped his scruffy head back towards it feeling hopelessly happy and fucking pleased to be alive and knowing that it was thanks to the two men stood with him who had given him an actual reason to fight and who soothed his bruises and helped him with technology.

 _Oh_.

"Seth?"

"You okay?"

"My phone was in there."

"Aw crap."

* * *

 **Whew, that was a bit of a wordy one there! But I couldn't resist the image of a dusty and slightly panicky Dean, what can I say?**

 **Right, next week Steph makes a reappearance and this time she has a very unusual (or horrifying depending on who you ask) request...**


	20. My Fake Boyfriend

**Shield Boys Monday, here we go! This one was literally begging to be written and will be hopefully some light relief after last week's slightly more serious building collapse! Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Sodapop25, Thank you so much! Glad you're still enjoying them.**

 **Skovko, Haha, I'm not a coffee drinker so I googled difficult orders. I just figured that Seth would totally be one of those guys. A nice normal coffee order would be too bland for our boy! Glad it was one of your favourites, especially because when I read it back I was a bit** _ **meh**_ **on it. Hopefully this one will make you laugh too!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Awww, many thanks. I hope you like this one too, Dean is really going to go through it in this one, but maybe not in the way you might think!**

 **Minnie1015, Dean gets it** _ **really**_ **hard in this one, but not in the usual whumpage way. It's going to be good though *grind evilly then falters*...I mean, I hope. I felt it was time for Dean to have a revelation about wanting to live. He's taking baby steps in these stories towards overcoming his grief and we all know that if there is anything in life for him to keep clinging on for, then its his boys! Even though he is less happy with them in this one…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Haha, I had to get his nonexistent waist in there somewhere. I mean, the thing is super tiny. How that translated into having a building fall on him though I have no idea! It's not my job to figure out how my brain works! More Dean in trouble in this one, but not the regular kind!**

 **Hayley1001, Yay, glad you liked it. You know me with the mother Henning, especially from Roman, big old worry pants that he is! But Roman isn't always worrying, in this one he is going to be a bit of a tease too. Lots of brotherhood in this one too (oh and more Roman henning in the next one by the way!)**

 **Mandy, Oh my goodness, I am so very sorry *big, big hugs*. Life must be super tough for you right now, but I hope you can take some small amount of solace in knowing that she is finally at peace. As much as that sucks. Thinking of you lots and wishing you all the strength that you need to get through. I hope (when you're feeling like it) this chapter makes you smile, at least for a little bit.**

 **Cherry619, Laughing at Dean's misfortune huh? Yep, that's my kind of thing too (but only in the fiction world obviously!) I think you might laugh even harder at his misfortune here, or at least I really hope you do, because me and Stephanie are being mean to him in this one! Well, Steph mostly…**

 **Rebel8954, Yep, I hear ya. Calls, texts and checking the news are all I use my phone for. Occasionally the weather if I'm feeling all fancy. I am not Seth-levels of technologically sound at all! I sort of imagine that Dean's next cell phone will be one of the one they design for old ladies that have large buttons and can only make calls. But don't tell Seth!**

 **Here comes the boss...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: My Fake Boyfriend**

"Honey bun."

His boss physically launched herself towards him the second he crossed the threshold like some bizarre heat-seeking dart, before tiptoeing up and throwing her arms around him in what was basically the most unexpected clinch in the world. Her hands slid up to lever his head in and happened to catch him so on the back foot that he was totally unable to stop her from leaning into him and pressing her red lips hard onto his.

Horror and revulsion burst heavily through him and he lifted his hands to try and push her back but found that she had suckered herself onto him so tightly he could barely lift his arms up.

What in the world?

"Fuck, _Steph_ – ,"

He mumbled the words out beyond the limpet lip lock, which made them sound tangled and unsurprisingly _smushed_ but which pretty much encapsulated how he was feeling since he was way too bewildered to form full words or frankly even _breathe_ straight. Had he missed some sort of memo or blacked out at some point? Because about the last thing that he could honestly feasibly remember had been letting himself in through the large reclaimed doors and moving a few steps ahead of his brothers in response to what had been termed an _emergency call_.

Not even a call –

Steph had sent a text message in barked staccato sentences.

 _My house._

 _Emergency._

 _Now_.

In response to it the three of them had instantly thrown their tools aside and launched for the truck before hauling ass like mad and nearly breaking every road law in the process to reach the bitchy boss that they couldn't be without and imagining worst case scenarios in their panic, because the last time they had been called there she had been taken hostage.

Being met by a full-on hug and smooching fest therefore had not at any point been particularly factored in and so was why Dean stood in a bewildered sort of stupor as her lips trapped his both hot and slickly wet and as his boss made noises and teased her fingers through his hairline like he was some seafaring paramour that she hadn't seen in months. By the time she broke apart from him he was on the cusp of retching but thankfully on that front he was by no means the only one.

Seth blinked back at her like a guppy,

"Have you gone _crazy_?"

In return their employer threw him a way too thin look and then turned to sweep a flattened palm towards her living room while the other one sought out then seized the undercover man's hand.

Dean protested,

"Will you quit fuckin' _touchin'_ me – ,"

But his bewildered bark broke off when someone new cleared their throat and all three lawmen looked up towards the threshold where a tall man was hovering and pretty awkwardly watching on.

He was a muscular looking feller, but not in the natural way since there were veins popping out from the base of his neck, which probably would have made him seem pretty intimidating had it not been for the fact that he was easily smiling back and from beneath a head of short buzz cropped blonde hair spikes with a neatly trimmed goatee and pale hazel orbs. None of which answered the more pressing basic question of who the hell was he, where had he come from and why?

Stephanie coughed then gestured towards him,

"Gentlemen this is Andrew."

He moved forward at once and seized up the one remaining hand of the undercover man that wasn't being clamped by their madwoman of a boss, before pumping it like he was inflating tire and the power of which nearly broke bones.

"Crap."

"Sorry man, I forget and squeeze a little too hard sometimes."

Andrew followed up with a bracing roundhouse thump which was probably supposed to somehow foster solidarity but almost knocked the copper blonde clean from his boots. Behind him his baffled looking teammates stepped in closer to receive a similar hello of their own and which our of the two of them only Roman took fully without stumbling or wincing.

 _Go big man go._

Stephanie hurried to continue the introductions by pointing to them in turn,

"Rollins and Reigns."

But she paused pretty worryingly before introducing the third man, who she was still hanging onto like they had been lost at sea and whose overtly _massively_ uncharacteristic seeming hesitance made him blink his blue eyes back at her. In return she cleared her throat and then sucked a lengthy breath in before lifting a hand to lay in over his arm and bizarrely trying to freaking _snuggle_ into him like they were back row at the movies.

"The hell – ,"

"This is my boyfriend, Dean."

He blinked,

"I'm freakin' _what_ now?"

But his bark went unheeded as the short blonde haired newcomer simply nodded in return and then threw what looked like a rueful little nod in, tossed over the top of a magnanimous smile.

"Stephanie has told me a whole lot about you."

"Is that right?"

Because she certainly hadn't fucking told him _or_ provided any word of a warning about what had been harassment between boss and employee. Dean could feel his poor bruised lips still tingling and the memory of her kiss turned over in his gut because frankly the smooch had been like canoodling his sister or possibly his perennially smoking hot aunt, insomuch as it was wrong and probably illegal. Maybe he needed to file a complaint?

Roman coughed somewhat helpfully in the background,

"Uh, you needed to see us?"

Business.

Right.

Stephanie however merely tossed her head so hard that it made her long hair brown flip up and was then followed by what _would_ have been a light sort of chuckle had it been from anyone other than her. Dean wasn't sure he had ever seen her laughing in the five or so long years he had known the woman for and he was thankful for that since her face twisted so painfully that it made him blink back at her,

"Are you havin' a stroke?"

His boss tapped his forearm but continued to beam brightly in a look that by no means reached up to her eyes and so therefore made it seem like she was pissed at him for something, which could _not_ have been true though because _she had_ _kissed him_.

Her head shook mildly,

"You'll have to excuse this one, he thinks he's funny but unfortunately he's not."

Dean frowned hotly,

"Hey I'm freakin' hilarious."

But the look he received in turn quickly shut him up, because beneath the broad smile there was a heavy weight of something that promised being fired or a lifetime of paperwork, since whatever the hell was happening he was clearly meant flow with it, but which was pretty fucking hard when he was basically working blind. He remembered them kissing and then threw up into his mouth a little before swallowing it back because _holy fucking ick._ Meanwhile in the background their visitor blew a breath out to fill in the pause,

"So what is it you fellers do?"

"Interesting question," Seth responded slowly with a hesitant little look towards their panicked boss who cut in suddenly by bringing her hands together in a rapid clapping motion and then barking a word out,

"Drinks."

"What?"

"Sweetie could you help me the kitchen?"

Dean took a beat or so to realize she meant him but managed to respond with his silver tongued eloquence and natural flare for language when he finally clued in.

"Huh?"

His boss threw her narrowed eyes to the sky in frustration like _he_ was somehow being the unreasonable one and then closed her bony fingers tighter around his bicep before spinning him towards the hall and practically hauling him along. Her tones were bright as she looked back over her shoulder and waved her free hand towards the remaining three men, who were watching in a blend of openness and bafflement based on which face she planted her gaze on,

"You boys take a seat and make yourselves comfortable, we won't be a minute."

"Damn it woman, let me go – ,"

Dean was towed over the white polished floor tiles and into the kitchen protesting every step because frankly he felt like he was being fucking _kidnapped_ and on which point he was likely more knowledgeable than most, since he seemed to have been hauled off practically _bi-monthly_ since their team had reformed nearly eighteen months before.

He barely even managed to make it through into the kitchen before bellowing at her horror stricken,

"What the fuck was _tha_ t?"

"Ambrose – ,"

"You better have a real important reason for breakin' like a _million_ employer boundaries back there, like maybe you were chokin' an' needed mouth to mouth or somethin' or you whacked your head earlier an' it scrambled your freakin' brain."

He was ranting like a lunatic.

He knew it.

But she had _kissed_ him and as the knowledge of that came bursting back through and triggered the memory of her wet lips suckered on him and her hands in his hair he leaned over and retched, trying to spit out the taste of her lip balm which was cherry mint tinted but which no _way_ should he have known. He followed that up by poking his tongue out and frantically scouring the surface with his sleeve. His boss watched the performance unfold with her arms crossed, frowning,

"You really know how to make a woman feel special Ambrose."

"You straight up freakin' _kissed_ me."

"Which has never happened to you before?"

"Not since – ,"

Dean stopped and the brown haired woman faltered because of the rest of the words never needed blocking in, since they both knew in an instant what was meant by it and who it referred to and the magnitude of it.

 _Her_.

Back before he had met his fiancée, the copper blonde had been kind of a man of the world, which basically meant that he had shunned real relationships in favor of living sort of wild and free and because the thought of being tied to one single person had filled him with stereotypical male levels of fear. But that had all crumbled pretty instantly to nothing the literal fucking _second_ that he had met _her_ , because she had turned him into a model of commitment.

From that moment on he had been a one-woman man.

Kissing and even _being_ kissed therefore felt like betrayal and shook at him fiercely and buried low into his soul so that between his remorse and being blindsided by their commissioner, his head was in a tailspin and so too was his mood.

Stephanie took a breath,

"I never thought – ,"

"Doesn't matter."

"I mean I wouldn't in a million years have – ,"

"Kinda too late for that now."

For a second they stood in the kind of fully awkward silence that for the most part of pair of them had managed to avoid, since their encounters were usually brief and sort of sparky and because neither freaking _one_ of them was well versed in emotional talk. Frankly there were only two people in the universe that the copper blonde trusted enough to tell how he felt and they were busy keeping the newcomer occupied, which he could hear in the low murmurs that echoed back in from the hall. Likely they were both wondering what was happening in the kitchen and on that front they were definitely not the only ones.

Dean scratched his neck,

"So look – ,"

"Andrew was my fiancé."

His boss' blunt explanation fell out of thin air but was offered with the sort of intense burning focus which let him know that for her it had been a pretty big leap and so was therefore not something she told many people.

Dean blinked,

"Your _what_?"

"We were engaged back in college and before I met – ,"

 _Hunter_.

In the scheme of loves and losses they both had names they couldn't say and much in the same way that she had known the person on _his_ lips, he instinctively knew the one on hers and so simply nodded back to save her from saying it and opening up the memories and the ongoing pain.

Ten months earlier her total bastard former husband had tricked his way out of prison and broken into her house where he had proceeded to hold her hostage and scare the crap out of her and which Dean had been unlucky enough to score front row seats to see. In the weeks that had followed their boss had been twitchy and he knew she had even thought about selling up and moving on, but because she was ballsy she had resolutely stuck her heels in and chosen to stay put in her much loved home, which was still too white and soulless for his liking but suited her perfectly.

It was where she belonged.

 _Hold up_.

Dean shook his head,

"Look as much as I'm lovin' the backstory here, can we skip to the reason you fuckin' _frenched_ me? Or how 'bout the part where you called me your freakin' boyfriend? Which by the way is gonna haunt me in my sleep."

Instead of respond in the usual sarcastic overtones that the copper blonde was used to having fired back his way, the brunette turned briskly towards a bank of white cupboards and began to pull out tumblers which she placed on a tray. Her reply was murmured and he had to crane himself to hear it but found he missed it anyway and so barked at her,

"What?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes,

"He wants to get back together and give us another try."

"He told you that?"

"Yes."

"So _that_ was the reason you sent us the message?"

Brown eyes blinked back at him like she couldn't see the problem, or more likely because she was trying pretend like there wasn't one and that calling out the best resource in the entire freaking city to save her from her love life was not a poor use of their time. Never had she been one to own to up to her failures and on which point she was like her father in mirror image form,

"I needed some backup."

"We fuckin' thought you were bein' murdered."

"Why?"

"Because that's what the word _emergency_ means."

Pulling the last of the tumblers from the cupboard and then banging the door shut about ten times too hard, their no nonsense commissioner spun briskly towards him with her professional and business faces fully painted on.

"Ambrose I only need you to help for another hour – ,"

"Doin' what?"

"Being my stand-in."

It took a second to compute but slowly the full force of what she was asking him seeped into his brainstem and then kicked him in the crotch.

"No way."

"Ambrose – ,"

"I am _not_ bein' your boyfriend."

He practically whispered his growl of a response because for some reason barking the words out too loudly seemed like some horrible natural offence or else something that might cause a bolt from the heavens because it felt so perverted and twisted and _ick_.

Stephanie blinked,

"Are you not my undercover man?"

Her response was a heinously low kind of blow. Besides which there was a pretty big separation between hanging on a bar stool watching some criminal and having to pretend to _romance his boss_ and anyway, the process of being undercover was nothing unusual and neither were the results, whereas knowing how look like he was in a functioning relationship was something that both frightened and threw him at once.

He had even been hopeless with his beautiful fiancée who had loved him _in spite_ of his awkward little ticks and so figured that if he hadn't even beaten it for her sake then the hopes for his stern faced employer were pretty slim.

He grumbled back reluctantly,

"Listen boss, I'm kinda flattered that you think I can pull the lovin' boyfriend shit off, but I'm better at blendin' in with convicts an' killers than your pretty little steroidal childhood sweetheart back there. I mean, I can probably beat him up if he won't take no for an answer – ,"

Because wasn't that the reason she had called them there at all?

Unless –

Unless –

Dean blinked and then spluttered,

"You still fuckin' love him."

In response to his bark her cheeks bloomed magenta and she turned towards the threshold between the hall and the kitchen with a look of pure panic in case he had been heard. Easy low voices murmured on in the background and seemed to convince her that her secret was safe, but she still turned towards him with a look of uncertainty which she played off with a shrug,

"Andrew was the first man I ever loved, I'll always have a place for him."

"What about Kurt?"

Mayor Angle –

Head of their twinned city and political celebrity who had formed a budding romance with their bustling municipality not to mention with their very own chief of police.

Four months earlier the copper blonde lawman had semi-inadvertently bust in on a date and warned the visiting mayor not to hurt his boss' feelings and which had seemed to have had a fortunately positive impact. Or at least the two had been low-key dating ever since then and had seemed to be happy enough and meshed pretty well. Not that it was really his scene or whatever but even _he_ had to reluctantly say they looked kind of cute and besides which Kurt was a pretty cool feller.

Dean vaguely liked him.

Had the boss been screwing behind his back?

Rather than looking embarrassed however, like maybe she had been caught out being a tramp, Stephanie instead pointedly turned herself away from him to pull loose a bottle that had been chilling in the fridge and the stainless steel surface of which reflected her face back to reveal a look of heartbreak.

Freakin' uh oh.

"Kurt and I both came to the conclusion that we're too heavily focussed on our careers right now."

Bullshit.

Dean knew she was lying in an instant because otherwise she wouldn't have been trying to hide her face, or have lost the typically harsh bite to her cadence that she usually carried when she was talking to him.

Kurt had cut her loose –

 _Damn_.

Dean had never liked him.

He lifted a hand and then itched at his hairline in the instinctive way he tended to when thrown for a loop, then tried his level best to muster something sympathetic since that seemed the best option,

"Want me to shoot him in the head?"

"Excuse me?"

"Because I could totally take the train up there and probably make it by _like_ midnight if I left now, an' I figure if you tell me where he lives then maybe – ,"

He tailed off loosely but waved a hand between them and pale eyes flickered towards the ceiling in response, but there was a hint of a smile hidden somewhere beneath them which his boss then buried beneath a tight looking brow as her normal tones returned.

"No assassinations."

"You're no freakin' fun."

"So you like to tell me."

Dean breathed out a sort of mental little _thank you_ that their banter had bounced right back to full force, because heartfelt had never really much been in his ballpark and frankly nor had anything else. But in spite of the teasing her look was still haunted and it pulled at his soul a whole lot harder than it should, because his boss not being bullish or snarky was bizarrely unnatural and he wasn't a fan.

Stephanie had picked _him._

He thought on that momentarily.

Because frankly his brothers would have been the far safer choice and would probably have bought into the pretence with less cursing. Yet regardless of that she had still chosen _him_.

Partly he figured it was thanks to his prowess in fictional situations that bordered on the extreme, but beyond that there was another truth pressing on his conscience. Because beside her old man he was the man in her world and possibly the only other penis based lifeform that hadn't ever left her or broken her in two. Dean figured that maybe that was even kind of _special_ and so loosened his tense stance and then flapped his hands,

" _Fine_."

Habitually narrowed eyes blinked back in bewilderment,

"What is?"

"This – this freakin' _whatever_ this is, with me makin' out like I'm your boyfriend for an hour, but if I have to see this crap through then I'm layin' out some rules. First is no more fuckin' kissin' me _ever_ , not even if you're mountain climbin' an' runnin' outta breath. Second is no freakin' talkin' 'bout _sexy time_ because my mind is kinda full enough with pictures as it is an' those are some images I'll never fuckin' shake loose."

He was back to his usual customary ranting thing again, because having bought into the whole _fake boyfriend_ hoopla he was fast beginning to regret that he had and in fact would have probably even tried to back out of it had his largely cold and untouchable employer not suddenly reached over and then latched onto his hand.

Huh?

Dean blinked up in measures of confusion but found himself faced with a genuine smile, which made him soften mildly,

"Ambrose, this means a lot to me."

"Yeah, well, uh – ,"

"Now, are you ready to head on back out?"

His blue eyes flickered rapidly towards the five crystal tumblers and the bottle of sparkling water being balanced on her tray and then turned back to look across the big white kitchen in search of hard liquor.

"Need somethin' stronger than that."

"Such as?"

Dean shrugged,

"You got bleach or rat poison?"

His enquiry was met with long suffering rolled eyes and his boss then pushing back over the threshold with a brisk click of heels. He followed with a smirk, because he figured the fuckin' _least_ he was owed for what was happening was the chance to bust her balls pretty liberally for a bit.

 _She had chosen him_.

He fought back the warmth of that and cleared his throat roughly.

 _She had chosen him_.

Passing through the hall took them beside the large staircase which clung to the walls in wraparound form and then back into what was by a freaking _long_ way the most formal of the four or five white painted and soulless reception rooms. His brothers were both perched on a pristine leather sofa but right on the lip like they were scared of leaving marks, which meant they looked like they were waiting for an interview or more likely waiting for _his_ ass to pitch back up.

Andrew by contrast was slouched in an armchair much like he had been thrown there or propelled from a height and had one leg slung up and over his kneecap, which pushed his tightly bulging package up and then out. How had his waistband not cut off the blood supply?

Stephanie trilled brightly,

"Sorry about that, here we are."

Popping the top from the bottle of water which had been purchased from a bizarre sounding super fancy brand and so therefore had probably been head spinningly expensive, their boss filled the brightly shining tumblers to the brim and then handed them out before lowering herself easily onto the cushions of the one remaining loveseat.

Her former fiancé beamed back at her too broadly,

"I was beginning to miss you."

 _Seriously_?

Ick.

He turned to sidestep the modernist coffee table with corners that looked hand tailored for the barking of shins and was halfway seated on the lone leather tub chair when blood red painted fingernails sunk into his skin and hauled him towards the loveseat with such wild purpose that he stumbled and then bit out a bark of surprise.

"Fuck."

He followed that up with a further hiss of hot fury as the coffee table, as promised, ate into his shin, but then promptly forgot the pain as his heels hit the crossbeam and toppled him backwards so he landed hard beside their boss, who tangled their hands up and pasted a fake smile on.

Boyfriend mode.

 _Ugh_.

He fucking needed a raise.

From over the top of the faux polar bear throw rug that protected the lily white carpet between their seats, his best friends and teammates blinked back in concern at him since they probably figured he was being blackmailed or worse, or because usually his response to their boss holding hands with him would have been pretty violent and strewn with curse words.

Even the blonde headed newcomer was watching them like some sort of keen eyed high flying hawk but, instead of leading with concern for the lawman being held virtually hostage by the brown haired harridan, he instead only saw the other man as competition, which leant his low tones a low and belligerent sounding edge.

"So how long have you two lovebirds been together?"

Dean and his _beloved_ both spoke at once.

"Two years."

"Six months."

 _Damn_.

For the most part when undercover Dean had spent time beforehand laying his backstory out and pulling in plot points and tiny pieces of material that helped to flesh his character out, but which had then been blown to hell in the first freaking _second_ by his boss interrupting and not letting him work. But then again necessity was the master of invention which was some pretty cool life motto he had heard on some program once, but which he liked and so to that end then let bleed on through him as he loosened a bark of laughter and put a hand on his boss' knee.

 _Not weird._

 _Not weird_.

"Sorry man, that was my fault, see I thought you said how long have you been _in love_ because for _me_ the answer to that is two years now, but I only told _this_ one that 'bout six months back."

Stephanie blinked at him and her look of pure wonderment flooded him with buoyancy.

Hell yeah.

He was the man.

Andrew however seemed less impressed by it and his lengthening scowl began to needle the copper blonde because frankly the guy being so freaking territorial over someone he had stopped seeing a _lifetime_ ago was borderline possessive and had no reason for being there. But it was possibly the reason p the two of them had broken up.

Seth then tried to help the ruse further,

"I'm telling you man, these two are soulmates right here."

"Is that right?"

"Oh yeah, they have pet names and everything,"

"Bunny and Schmoopsy," Roman threw in, but with a smirk that his middle brother narrowed blue eyes at because his two beaming teammates were having way too much fun and clearly loving the opportunity to bust his ballsack.

None for all and all for none.

Beside him their boss tensed her fingers up sharply in bodily confirmation that she too was not impressed and it inspired her brand new but temporary boyfriend to toss back his own barb,

"Those two are gay."

"What?"

Four sets of eyes blinked back at him in bewilderment and then turned to the two men perched opposite on the couch, who had suddenly found themselves the center of attention. Dean felt no remorse though. It was totally their own fault. Roman sucked a breath in and then chose to follow through on it since their options were horribly limited at best and so cleared his throat loudly and placed an arm around their tech man before nodding his head firmly,

"Uh, yep, we're in love."

Seth barked back at him in horror,

"What the hell man?"

He then swiftly tried to bat his much larger brother off but instead found himself clamped to the broad body even tighter while Dean pointed towards them with a loosely flapped hand,

"Seth is still kinda _shy_ about the whole thing because he hasn't gotten round to tellin' his family he's come out."

If looks had been knife blades then the copper blonde lawman would have been killed in a billion bloodthirsty different ways, but since they weren't he merely carried on beaming because in spite of the torment he was finally having fun.

Seth was not.

"Dean – ,"

"Babycakes and Big Daddy, I'll leave you to figure out which one is which."

For a long few moments nobody responded, since what was anyone even meant to say? But then eventually their houseguest managed to throw a nod out towards the two lawmen pressed in side by side, which came out totally and utterly baffled but also surprisingly supportive as well.

"Uh, congratulations, I'm sure your family will be behind you."

Seth blinked back at him unhappily,

"Thanks."

Clearing her throat to bring some control back, their boss made a point of then pressing her nails in so that they bit into the back of his hand in silent warning but which she managed to hide facially by pretending everything was fine and that she hadn't emotionally blackmailed her employee into being her reluctant fake paramour for the night, _or_ that her remaining two top secret taskforce members were not sat on her loveseat having recently been paired up.

"Andrew, tell me, how is life treating you? Did you ever manage to make it in the wrestling world?"

Dean frowned.

Wrestling?

No wonder the boss had tossed him, because what in the hell kind of bizarre career was that? Prancing about the place in what was basically swimwear and traveling the whole time and trying to make ends meet. Never would _he_ have been caught in a lifestyle that was so completely crazy.

No freaking way.

In response the bulky newcomer merely sort of chuckled and then shook his head heavily so that his neck veins bulged and stretched,

"No, I took to heart everything you told me back on that night when we kinda broke things off and I realized you were right and that I needed to be more focused, so I used some of my savings to start up a gym. It's running pretty well. I have five of them in total and we're looking for premises to try and open up a sixth. So from the bottom of my heart I wanted to say thank you, because I never would have been even _half_ as successful without you and that kick up the ass that you handed me back then."

Dean curled up his lip in unhappiness.

Wow.

Did the fucker really think he could impress her with bells and whistles? His boss was the freaking city chief of police and from a background that was basically richer than Croesus and so therefore it would take a whole lot more to tempt her than hanging a freaking _treadmill_ in front of her face.

"You own a business?"

Maybe not.

Stephanie was blinking like the man sat before them had put up the sun, or had told them he liked to rescue puppies from burning buildings or performed mouth to mouth on kittens or shit. Dean cleared his throat and moved a little closer in what he hoped looked like a traditional loving boyfriend move and which comprised him putting a broad forearm around her shoulders and then pulling her towards him with a falsely bright smile,

"Cool man, maybe we can come and have a look sometime, y' know, like have you give us the tour?"

Andrew nodded back,

"Sure thing man, you're all welcome, except I might not be there because I'm overseas a lot now. I started a foundation to help orphaned children and so I'm putting as much time into that as I can."

Dean blinked.

Crap.

He could practically feel the moment that his boss let her ovaries physically implode and he hated it because in spite of the business credentials and the charity work thing, the man before then was still _wrong_. Not in the sense that the four of them were used to since he probably hadn't killed someone or broken the law, but he was still too much of a flawed fit for their employer and the copper blonde lawman felt that fiercely in his soul.

He barked out the beginnings of a curse,

"Oh _come on_ now – ,"

Luckily however their boss cut it off, which she managed by untangling her hand from his fingers and then shuffling herself further from his body on the couch, to the point that had he been a more sensitive sort of person, then he might have been mildly offended by her response. Her focus and her usually snippy tones were elsewhere though,

"It's nice to see you happy."

"I miss _us_ though,"

"You do?"

"I never loved anyone the way I loved you."

Dean blinked between them below tightly knitted eyebrows,

"Hey man, remember me?"

"Uh, oh right – ,"

Andrew blushed heavily then straightened up a little from where he had been pointedly hung in too close and a bizarre sort of hush then proceeded to fall over them, which Seth broke from out of nowhere,

"Dean cries at Disney films."

" _Dude_."

Evidently while _he_ had been trying to put the brakes on their poor heartbroken commissioner falling headlong back in love, his littler brother had still been steaming about the _gay thing_ and silently plotting his childish revenge.

Andrew blinked,

"Um – ,"

"That was _one time_ asshole, because she left the freakin' fox in the forest _on his own_ when everyone knew he would have been happier back at her house, so it was totally messed up."

Roman snorted mildly at the memory of _that_ one.

His middle brother sitting cross-legged on his couch with his own precious seven year old princess on his kneecaps and watching in what had been base levels of horror as together they had ploughed the House of Mouse back catalogue. Because of the fact that he had lived a crappy childhood, their tousled copper blonde had missed out on Disney films and based on his reactions to The Fox and the Hound and Bambi he was fully unlikely to ever want to see more.

"Seth took birth control pills."

"Screw you man, you _know_ I thought they were for headache relief."

"Yeah but remember how perky your nipples were?"

Stephanie barked back at him loudly,

" _Dean_."

In many ways it was instantly bizarrely reassuring to hear her slide back into her usual harsh tones, but at the same time it was similar to taking a shot across the bowsprit and was the reason that Roman then stepped in at once.

"I think I need to talk to these two outside."

He had been sort of hanging onto their tech man already since the two of them were supposed to have been passionately in love and so therefore used his hold to simply lever the man upright before tossing a pointed look at their undercover man, who was by no means in the mood for a faux parental lecture _or_ prepared to leave his boss and the other bulky man. Stephanie however ploughed her elbow into his ribcage,

"Ambrose – ,"

 _Uh oh_.

No more happy first name terms which meant that his employer was moving closer to full on freak out, but which hardly seemed fair because how was any of it _his_ fault?

"Uce."

Roman was hovering on the brilliant white threshold beneath a wildly ornate two storied arch and his thick brows were being levelled heavily at his brother as he continued to also one-handedly propel their youngest man. Dean rolled his blue eyes in response to the coaxing and then blew out a huff which made sort of him flinch because he sounded like a child being sent to the naughty step which was then probably not helped by his churlishly shuffled feet.

Roman smiled up over his head,

"Won't be long now."

"Better freakin' not be," Dean murmured back before finding a palm press in low over his spinal cord which forced him from the lounge and right back out into the hall.

No matter how many various times he had been there, the large riverfront house would never not be pretty sweet with the sort of proportions and original features that he had only really seen in horror movies before and which by night were probably completely fucking freaky, but therefore _totally_ suited their employer come vampire queen. Seth was already stood with his arms folded by the staircase and he barked in frustration as his brothers moved in,

"Why the hell would you tell him we were lovers?"

"Why would _you_ give us freakin' _nicknames_?"

"We were trying to help."

"Well then next time stop tryin'."

Roman stepped between them with his hands held up,

"Hey."

From nowhere the sensation of Stephanie kissing him bubbled back up across the copper blonde tongue and so Dean stuck it out and then proceeded to scrub it fiercely while making a range of noises like he was about to throw up and which removed the frustration from their previously pissed tech man long enough for him to pose an important question,

"How was it man?"

"Like bein' freakin' frenched by an' eel. I mean, the _suction_ – ,"

Dean broke off and then let a little shudder loose and in response to it Roman reached a hand out in solidarity and started to knead his shoulder like he could _pressure point_ the tension out.

"This has been a wild one, no doubt about it."

No one contradicted him because what was the point? But on the plus side at least the three of them being together and away from the madness helped to beat back the rub, since they had never been able to stay mad at one another with the exception of the whole betrayal, head-breaking bit.

Roman raised a brow,

"You two boys feeling cooler now?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders then opened his mouth, which _had_ been about to reply in the affirmative, but then rapidly shut up as a figure strode in, positively storming beneath the way too fancy archway and then turning towards them with her pale eyes ablaze.

He murmured,

"Aw crap."

"What the hell were you thinking?" Stephanie started fiercely but in unusually whispered tones, because clearly while she wanted to visit pain upon him slowly she _also_ wanted not to let her former lover know and which therefore translated into a hot verbal tongue lashing but which was bitten loose towards him with a fraction of its standard blast. Dean rolled his eyes and then waved his hand towards her,

"I'm savin' you from makin' a horrible mistake."

"Ambrose – ,"

"Come on, I'm still your fake boyfriend remember?"

"Not for much longer."

"Huh?"

"I want to break up."

Dean blinked his blue eyes back at her in bewilderment, because in spite of the fact she wasn't truly breaking up with him, based entirely on the premise that there was nothing to break, he still took the finality of their end bizarrely personally and so became sort of pitchy,

"You fuckin' _what_?"

"This isn't working out."

"You begged me for this relationship."

"Now I've changed my mind."

"But – ,"

"Nobody mentions this again and that is an order so I hope I'm clear on that point?"

Beside her the two teammates-come-temporary-lovers nodded back with sufficiently sombre faced looks but the copper blonde wasn't about to give up so easily. Besides which they were beginning to get back on firmer ground, since her barking at them sharply was way better than her kissing him. He put his hands over his heart,

"I think m' bleedin' out here."

"Ambrose I'm warning you if I hear one more word about this then I will personally see to it that the rest of your existence is spent filling out and filing expenses forms, do you hear?"

Seth cleared his throat,

"Steph – ,"

"Don't try to stand up for him,"

"Um, I wasn't – ,"

He pointed behind her head and in response they all suddenly clued into a figure with short cropped blonde hair who had moved out into the hall and was looking at the woman who was shouting pretty brutally at the man that _he_ thought was her newly tossed aside beau. Stephanie opened then shut her mouth rapidly, looking blindsided and unusually stunned,

"Andrew, listen this isn't what it looks like."

"So you're not threatening the man?"

"Ambrose works for me."

That didn't help.

"You mean you're in a relationship with one of your _employees_?"

In response to the evident twist in the story the badly bulging neck veins nearly burst through the skin and for a second the undercover scruffy headed lawman could see nothing but the image of them spewing blood in bright red streaks and therefore ruining the ivory furnishings that their boss had seen fit to put in every nook and space.

Stephanie bit a bark back and then painted a smile on as she tried to pretend like she was honest as freaking pie and _not_ some mad woman who bunked up with her underlings and then tossed them to the kerb when someone better came along. Unfortunately however she failed pretty spectacularly purely because she was a born and bred McMahon and her kind weren't skilled at heartfelt or open because through complex inter breeding human emotion had been weeded out.

"Andrew, listen, there has been a misunderstanding."

It was as far as she made it before her houseguest cut her off, which he accomplished by holding his palm out towards her and then blowing a snort loose,

"You're telling me."

"Look – ,"

But her former blonde paramour was in the process of leaving even as their boss tried to orally block him off, although he stopped himself briefly however on the threshold and then looked over the floor tiles towards Roman and Seth.

He wet his lips a little,

"You two make a lovely couple."

He was halfway beneath the porch before either of them could blink, although the comment made Dean beam like a child on the holidays for no other reason than simply _because_. Beside him their boss suddenly moved to hurry after him and had she caught him she probably would have tried to haul him back, but because she had already manhandled one man into a relationship in the past sixty minutes the copper blonde blocked her path and caught her by the shoulders as she frowned in frustration and then tried to shake him off her,

"Ambrose – ,"

"Let him leave Steph, unless you wanna freak the guy out even more here?"

It took her a beat but then she finally blew a breath out before reluctantly sort of slumping like a puppet without strings and in response to the movement Roman crossed the tiles bodily in several long steps and then pushed the doors shut. Banging them closed he let the hall fall into silence, since nobody moved or even tried to speak, with the noted exception of their ever mobile scruffy brother who suddenly bust out a full lipped bubble of a snort,

"He thought you two made a lovely couple."

Seth frowned heatedly at him,

"Shut up man."

Stephanie meanwhile threw her hands towards the heavens like she couldn't believe what had happened to her, or possibly like she needed a shot of something alcoholic. Roman cleared his throat,

"You okay boss?"

"Not a word Reigns."

Her finger swung towards him and then spun to point at all of them in turn as her soft romantic side was totally blown back again and replaced by her more murderous bitchy boss façade.

"Not a single word."

Her cell phone began ringing and she cursed at it harshly and then whipped the thing towards her face whereupon her expression then flipped back to something softer, which was kind of surprising. Her fingers fumbled the call button hastily and then held it to her ear with a hesitant whisper,

"Kurt?"

In reply the rest of them held their breath for her, or more likely to save themselves from being bellowed at again, but which they need not have bothered with because their employer was so focussed that the three of them probably could have slowly started to strip. Steph moved towards back the lounge with a chuckle,

"No, no, that's okay, I've missed you too – ,"

Forgetting them completely she stepped out of their eyeline and left them hovering quietly in the hall, at which point the copper blonde turned back towards the kitchen and blew a long breath out,

"I need me some hooch."

Dean plodded back over the polished tiles heavily before taking a short run up and skidding several feet like child, but he stopped in place at the foot of the staircase and looking back with a frown,

"Are you two comin' or what?"

Roman snorted towards him in fondness and then nodded with a smile,

"We're right behind you _Schmoops_."

* * *

 **Awww, poor Dean. Am I mean to him or am I mean to him? But sometimes it's too funny not to right?! In the next installment, Dean deals with a lingering effect of having been kidnapped by Kevin. Luckily however, his boys are there to help him through!**


	21. Confined Spaces

**Okay, so, lots of people were asking about some fallout from the Kevin thing and all the events of The Shield Undivided. So here we go, hard brotherhood be ahead!**

 **Skovko, Yikes, your alcoholic neighbour gets better and better. Hopefully he's nice and quiet right now? *Crosses fingers and toes*. Not so many laughs in this chapter, but if you want more funnies, you will definitely like next week's, when a certainly character makes a reappearance…*walks off whistling.***

 **Cheryl24, Oh wow *throws up in mouth a little on Dean's behalf* I'm not sure Dean would be able to cope with an accidental one night stand with Steph. It would be like sleeping with his sister! I think I've put the poor guy through enough! Yep. Kevin was the one who kidnapped Dean in the second story, so this chapter is set sort of back around then.**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Aww, glad you liked the last one. I just wanted something with three of them busting each other's balls! Bit more serious in this one, but I'm sandwiching, so the next one is much more light hearted again. This one needs to be done though and hopefully it answers some left over questions, or fills in some blanks about 'what happened next'.**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Yeah, poor old Dean, I certainly know how to torture the poor guy. *Clears throat* Um, see below for more examples!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Haha, glad you like having these one shots back, because the good news is that I have a whole BUNCH of them coming! Not so many laughs in this one, but hopefully the brotherhood will make up for that. I love the boys being all cute and mushy together. It gives me life!**

 **Mandy, Hey, how are you getting on? I know it's still going to be tough at this stage, but little steps and remember not to shut yourself off completely, tempting as it is. Very, very slowly it will start to get easier and then hurt less. Keep on keeping on. Not so many laughs in this chapter for you, but hopefully you'll like the brotherhood in this chapter too (Seth is particularly sweet in this one too).**

 **Minnie1015, *Takes deep breath and blows on harmonica to get the right note* Haaaappy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, thanks for being a buddy, happy birthday to yooooouuuuUUUU. I went up an octave at the end, in case you missed that bit. Nope, no idea where I get my ideas from either, but I'm thinking a very warped or else a very creative mind. Hope this one is a good birthday present!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Haha, yeah, I just kind of liked the idea that Dean would be like 'eww a wrestler,' in the same way that in this world he's all 'eww a cop?' Call it the product of a childish mind, what can I tell you?! Yep, good spot, Andrew was Test, albeit a very AU version. But who's to say he wouldn't have become an entrepreneur in this universe too?**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, I will eternally be sorry for inflicting Bunny, Schmoopsy and Babycakes on you…eh, who am I kidding? I totally won't be! I loved writing a one shot where the boys could all be mercilessly teasing to one another! What are brothers for right? Oops, sorry about no 'babe' content, but there's plenty of that (and protective, worried, awesome) Roman in this one to make up for that!**

 **Let's dive in then ladies and gents…**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Confined Spaces**

Mechanical whirring broke off into a clatter as the elevator slammed to an unannounced halt, which threw the three men inside it off balance and tossed the copper blonde into the metal handrail.

"Fuck."

His left hand kidney began to protest in an instant like perhaps he had bruised it for some sort of a kick, or else because he _liked_ peeing blood in a hot torrent since it seemed so much more cheerful than normal colored piss. Dean lowered the hand that wasn't braced on the handrail towards his brutally tenderised and newly wounded flank and then teased his fingertips over the throbbing which hissed at him bitterly.

 _Oh holy crap._

Beside him his brothers were also picking themselves upright, though they had evidently both fared better than he had because their muscle man was basically too bulky to move easily and their technical wizard had the reflexes of a cat. Neither of _them_ would be peeing blood like a fountain, but then maybe that was a positive?

Seth barked harshly,

"What the hell happened?"

But since he was poking the emergency button it seemed entirely likely he already knew and so therefore rather than answering and confirming the car had broken, Roman turned instead towards their wincing copper blonde.

"Uce, you okay?"

"It's a pee blood situation."

"Kidney?"

" _Oh_ yeah."

Dean tried to grin the words out and figured that he had obviously made a pretty good show of it since his brother seemed clueless as to his building alarm. Because _boy_ was he beginning to feel really fucking hectic, in a bizarre and totally _not him_ kind of a way since mostly he took bumps or life and limb situations with a cucumber coolness and the occasional twitch. But which meant there was no freaking reason _whatsoever_ for the sweat that was beginning to pool beneath his pits and on the back of his nape and in his damn _hairline_ and which was probably not helped by the pounding of his heart.

He started as a voice buzzed over the intercom,

" _Is there a problem_?"

"Yeah, we're not moving here man,"

Seth threw his eyes to the heavens as he responded in a weariness that translated pretty clearly in his tones and probably in turn inspired the shortness that bit back at them from the security guard posted way below on the lobby floor.

" _I'll put in a call to the maintenance people."_

"How long will that take?"

" _Maybe an hour_?"

Frankly his total lack of clarity on the matter was less helpful than being told nothing at all and fell below the standards for the rest of the swanky premises which was the largest in the quarter by a literal country mile and rose up higher than its nearest competition in thirty five stories of glass frontage and burnished steel. Inside the height and proportions were incredible with a company fitness centre and full retail floor too, besides a restaurant which had a fire pit in the middle and an honest to goodness _tree_ sprouting up from behind the bar.

Basically then it was a hugely impressive building.

Except for the fact the elevator was bust.

Fuck.

Dean felt his lungs begin to clench in uneasiness and so hauled in a breath and began to rhythmically tap his neck, beating his fingertips over his collarbone in a _one-two_ , _one-two-three_ motion that helped to keep him calm and offered him something into which to pour his focus besides the narrow box and the lack of natural light.

He blamed Ronda Rousey.

No –

He blamed _Stephanie_ since their commander was the one who had handed them the case that she had somehow convinced them was a simple open and shut thing yet which had then turned out to be anything _but_.

Ronda Rousey was a pretty big name in the finance sector, or so the copper blonde had been led to believe and so the fact that five years earlier she had moved her operation to their own Suplex City was a hell of a boost and had helped to create the flourishing business quarter which was matching their crime stats in terms of national claim to fame.

Her status therefore and importance to their city were the reasons that his own band of brothers had been called in when a series of threats sent by a former employee had begun to pitch up for her from out of the blue. Unluckily though the culprit had been a total bitch to figure because her business employee records were brain-numbingly long.

Dean had never liked trawling through paperwork so being trapped in an elevator having spent six hours in boxes was basically a bad end to a hugely crappy day.

Seth barked back at the security guard hotly,

"An hour?"

" _Maybe a little longer_."

"Come on man, we're trapped in here."

Dean flinched on hearing it bitten out so bluntly because the terse tones reminded him they were hopelessly stuck and in a tiny metal box they had no way of busting loose from and which then took him right back to when it had happened before, three months earlier when he had been shot and then kidnapped prior to being freaking _buried alive_ because a psychopath he had saved from a couple of bullies one time had flipped a screw loose and tried to suffocate him.

Double fuck.

His lungs wheezed heavily –

 _Squeak, squeak_.

In out.

 _Squeak, squeak_.

Had his brothers not noticed the fucking walls were closing in?

Dean put his hands out to take the force of their proximity but then fumbled and instead found only thin air, which hardly made sense because how could he not touch them when they were moving towards him with every last blink? His head swam hard and then his vision rolled badly and he instinctively pitched forward to put his hands on his knees.

Oh crap.

He couldn't breathe.

He could _not_ suck any air in and the knowledge of that bloomed ice cold through his bones then sent him into a sudden burst of gasping which tore out of him high pitched and so brutal that it _hurt_ , but none of which helped him to steady his breathing since the breath hit his throat and then simply fucking _stopped_ so that his panic and fear became total and all-consuming.

Broad warm hands landed midway up his back,

"Uce?"

"Ro – Roman – ,"

"You're okay babe, I've got you."

He meant that totally in the literal sense too because at some point which he had no memory of having happened, the copper blonde had collapsed to his knees onto the floor, with his hands pressed hard to the marble beneath their boot soles because heaven forbid that the levels of sheer opulence had not been carried through into the elevators as well. Roman was crouched beside him holding him firmly and basically stopping him from falling forwards onto his face, all the while murmuring in low tones of comfort over the continued harsh and pretty haggard sounding breaths,

"You're okay babe, this won't last forever."

"Feel – feels like it."

"Nice and easy now uce."

Seth too lowered himself into the picture running hands through his hair in a measure of stress because he clearly had no idea how to help the situation and was heavily freaked by it.

"What's happening man?"

Roman replied evenly like it wasn't a problem,

"He's having a panic attack."

Dean blinked.

He was?

Because somehow the uber simple two word explanation seemed way too minor for what was coursing through his bones and making him sweat like he had run a freaking marathon and tremble like he had been caught out in heavy snow. Besides which it overlooked the immediate predicament which he frantically fought to force out over his lips since nobody else appeared to have noticed,

"But the – the walls are – ,"

"Not moving babe, you're totally safe."

"Oh."

Dean wasn't sure if his tiny little exhale was an intentional syllable or else a wheeze from his throat, but clearly thinking that it was probably the latter, their powerhouse pressed on in full bigger brother mode.

"What can you see uce?"

"Kevin – ,"

Dean shook a little harder because try as he might the image wouldn't let up and so beyond the sparkly blackness that was buzzing at his vision was the memory of the grinning face hung over his own and the sight of the top of the pine box closing in on him as he had struggled and tried to push it off with knees, since his hands had been tied behind his back and trapped beneath him while the oxygen had thickened until he could barely even breathe.

Roman tensed up his fingers momentarily before letting them relax, which was probably for the best since their technical expert reacted for both of them in a burst of hot anger at merely hearing the name,

" _Fuck_."

"No babe, I mean _now_ , what can you see around you?"

Dean blinked his fuzzy eyes a little,

"I – I can see you,"

"Good."

Roman still had warm palms pressed to his kidneys and had hunkered low enough that the copper blonde could see his face, which was highlighted by the solid brown eyes which looked unflinching and lightly crinkled in the corners like he was _happy_ or some shit, in spite of the fact they were trapped in an elevator and scrubbing about on their knees on the floor. Dean sometimes felt as though he wasn't worthy of their big man.

Seth lowered himself into a loose crouch as well,

"What else man?"

"Y-you."

His lungs were easing up on him –

Maybe.

Possibly.

He wasn't too sure but either way his throat seemed to be a little better in that the thing was no longer as parched as the fucking _sun_ and which therefore made his having to haul breath in _not_ feel both improbable or like the fires of hell. Bit by bit his vision was returning, which clearly showed up the bright elevator walls which were probably _not_ the twenty four carat plates they looked like but blazed at him resolutely.

Not moving.

 _Thank fuck._

Probably because it had been borderline helpful, Dean chose to keep on listing things he could see, blinking his bleary blues into overheads and then tentatively about their boxy little prison cell. Because it was an elevator and not a museum, it turned out that there wasn't a whole lot to focus on but there _were_ polished surfaces and patterns in the marble which snaked like little rivers beneath his trembling hands and made him feel like he was hovering above some landscape that had been formed by nature and a series of branching waterways.

Maybe there were uncontacted elevator tribes beneath him?

Roman moved a hand up to tousle his curls,

"Babe?"

"I – I'm okay."

On the plus side he legitimately meant that, because even though his intercostal muscles kind of _hurt_ and would probably bitch and piss at him for all of the heavy wheezing, he was back to breathing like normal again with the exception of the occasional hitch or jerky shudder.

Roman kept on kneading his scalp slowly and evenly,

"Damn straight you are,"

"But, uh sorry 'bout that, I guess I must a' flipped out or somethin', but then I've always been a step from bein' locked away right?"

Dean waved his hands as he offered out the sentence which he then tried to furnish with a rueful little laugh, because frankly with the cold panic having washed from his system he was beginning to feel a flood of hot shame instead since having lost his shit so hopelessly badly was pretty fucking far from the proudest moment in his life, besides which he belonged to a top secret police taskforce.

How had he been bested by _nothing at all_?

Seth barked back at him with surprising conviction,

"No man, _no_ this isn't on you."

Roman coughed,

"Uce – ,"

"Come on man, this is bullshit and I'm not about to stand here and listen to him beat himself up because of all the messed up shit that asshole put him through. I mean for Christ sakes, Kevin _buried you alive_ , so of course you end up twitchy when this kinda thing happens, but no way in _hell_ is it on you man."

Damn.

Dean blinked.

Honestly their littlest brother had never been renowned for his perfect choice of words, but in the fury stakes there were precious few men who could match him, but which managed to be okay because the passion meant he cared.

Roman sucked a breath in,

"Is that what it was babe?"

He was playing the _babe_ card a hell of a lot, which he usually reserved for truly crappy situations or his copper blonde brother needing a feather like touch.

Dean shrugged,

"Dunno."

Except they all knew that was bull crap because there was literally nothing else that _could_ have caused him to freak out and because never before had he been spooked by small spaces yet which had formed over the months since the kidnapping had fucked him up. Back when he had been a little booger-nosed rugrat he had tended to seek out little cubby holes and nooks and had spent many hours hiding in them from his sister with little more than a flashlight and a well-thumbed book, but the confines of which had never bothered him remotely and so therefore made his new phobia even harder to figure out.

Seth shook his head,

"Come on man I'm not buying that, we can't try and help if you won't let us in."

Dean shrugged a second time.

He wasn't holding them back on purpose.

But it was so fucking _hard_ to tell them how he felt, ,partly because he hated having to look back on it but mostly because he still blamed himself since he was the fool that had clambered in with his kidnapper when he _should_ have turned on his fucking heel and run. Besides which there wasn't a whole lot more to even tell them because the two of them had been listening in to every word, barring the part he had been hauled over the shoreline and tossed into the specially created hole in the sand.

He shuddered,

"I can't – I mean I'm not – ,"

 _Crap_.

He blew a breath out and then slowly rocked back up onto his heels before letting his body slump hard towards the panelling in a clumsy looking slouch that his older brother caught and then managed to make a little less heavy by catching the leather collar and easing him back. Not being hunched on his knees like a labrador even helped to steady out his breathing a bit.

Better.

He felt better.

"Dean?"

Seth became plaintive like he had no fucking clue how to make their world right and something in his bruised tone triggered his brother who suddenly clenched his teeth and then bit the bullet hard.

"I uh – I called for help or whatever."

"When man?"

"When Kevin was haulin' me outta the house, I straight up yelled for someone to come save me."

Roman put a hand out,

"We're sorry we weren't there babe."

But instead of leaning himself into the tousling the copper blonde moved backwards to evade the broad hand, because his brothers were not following what he was trying to tell them and which was probably his fault because he often sucked at words and putting his full feeling into coherent titbits. But this time he felt he _had_ to because he owed them that much and then also because he had basically _refused_ therapy which in light of what had happened and the recent _not breathing thing_ had evidently been the totally wrong choice.

God damn.

"No that's not – I'm _sayin'_ I wish I hadn't because that's not how we're meant to react to shit right? Like, m' pretty sure m' meant to fuckin' _laugh_ in the face of danger but instead of that crap I basically freaked the hell out."

Roman shook his head,

"You were scared and that's okay uce."

"But – ,"

Seth chimed in too,

"Come on man, he knocked you out, _plus_ you had taken a bullet to the shoulder so find me a person that wouldn't have freaked, I mean you had a concussion and were totally fucking helpless so how is it bad that you tried to save yourself?"

Dean blinked,

 _Huh_.

Honestly, in having putting the thought out there he had basically revealed his biggest regret not to mention the one thing that had been freaking _chewing_ on him ever since the moment they had hauled his ass out. Because for some bizarre reason his own fucked up memory of having essentially _bellowed_ for help before the sweaty hand had launched back to clamp his lips shut again had seemed like something to have felt _shame_ about and had played a huge part in him brushing off therapy in case he had been labelled as a coward or worse. But his brothers clearly thinking that those thoughts were crazy made him sharply reconsider, because maybe they _were_?

He cleared his throat,

"I was thinkin' a whole lot 'bout you two, back there when I was kinda buried an' _trapped_ , an' how bad it would be for you havin' to find me but bein' too late to help me y' know?"

Roman tensed up the broad fingers in his hairline.

Hold up –

How and when had the powerhouse put them there and why in the world had the smaller man not known it and at what point had he begun to lean _into_ them as well? Damn his bigger brother and the beautiful massages which made his fingertips seem like cushioned healing pads.

Seth blew a breath out,

"Hell we thought that too man, that whole time he had you we were losing our minds and thinking the worst and busting our humps to try and find you."

"We kind of fall to pieces without our lunatic uce."

Dean snorted wryly in return,

"It figures."

But for basically the first time since they had stepped into the building, not to mention the still broken elevator cube, the copper blonde meant every last flicker of the smile he flashed and which he used to broaden the featherlight barb, because not only had his lungs reverted back to normal in spite of the heavy sort of _thickness_ to the air, but also because the proximity of his brothers and their knowing how to comfort him had soothed his pounding heart. Plus it reminded him of how grateful he was for them and how much he had missed them.

He couldn't live without them now.

Reaching out a hand he flattened it over his big brother and then patted the bulky man twice on the chest in a silent little move that he knew he would feel the meaning of before repeating it by leaning towards their sparky tech head as well,

"You two get me."

"Somebody has to," Seth bit back hotly, before stroking his head but a little too rough like he was some breed of canine but which worked as a stress reliever since it reminded them both that the other was close and not likely to break loose.

Not that any of them _could_ break loose.

Dean hummed a little,

"You think they're fixin' this tin can or are we gonna have to made a new life for ourselves in here?"

Roman snorted,

"In that case I call the master suite."

"First born brother takes the best bedroom is that it?"

"Damn straight."

"Think we can maybe fit a pool table in here too?"

"Don't worry babe, because I'm 'a make sure of it."

Beside them their little sibling rolled his eyes heavily but was unable to hold back the slow creeping beam, because even though the three of them were trapped and going nowhere there was a certain type of purpose when the three of them were stuck or when they were sharing a motel room together or working back at the warehouse through the night or simply hanging out having beers like best buddies and so therefore if nothing else then the company was good.

 _Brothers_.

Dean shuffled and then lowered his messy tangle onto the shoulder blade pressed closest to his side and which had helped to hold him up when he had been freaking out and woozy but made a pretty handy pillow now that his emotions were back in check.

Fixing the car would take the maintenance crew an hour and they had already hit on the first fifteen minute mark which _therefore_ meant that they could see the halfway flag and their eventual release.

Dean could cope with that just fine.

Not that it stopped him from seizing up bodily as the muffled sounding tones of the security man buzzed out, blasting in through the boxed space too loudly and then bouncing back harshly at them from the shiny walls,

" _You boys still in there_?"

Dean snorted,

"He's fuckin' kiddin' right?"

Seth waved his hands in a muted _who knows_ and then hauled himself back to his feet with a mumble before stabbing the bottom button with an unimpressed thumb,

"Where the hell else are we supposed to have gone man?"

He was met by an honest to goodness bewildered pause as the chunky little lookout likely benched a meatball submarine and then carefully went over the wording in his head,

" _Oh, uh, right_."

"You have any news for us?"

" _Maintenance crew are on site now, say it'll probably be at least another twenty minutes_."

Seth bit back at him sarcastically,

"Great."

But in the scheme of the trouble the less than half an hour timeframe was probably the best thing the bored sentry could have said, since it was by no means as long as any of the three men had been thinking and so therefore could have potentially even passed for a type of luck. Dean in particular felt his lungs begin to loosen as the last of the tension finally billowed up and off because twenty minutes seemed like basically nothing, so he could easily cope with it.

But then more tinny tones rang out,

" _Uh, are you fellers gonna be okay in there, 'cos I could see the blonde one kinda freaking out before_."

Dean blinked.

Huh?

How had he known that?

Unless –

He looked up and then bit out a curse.

"Shit."

Positioned high up in the corner of their prison cell was a tiny winking camera barely visible to the human eye, but totally obvious when he was actually fucking looking and which had clearly been feeding his entire meltdown back and providing the guard and possibly the entire lobby with the best television they had likely seen in months.

Feelings and fears of his being labelled spineless bubbled back up into his psyche once more and as the image of his having been thrown into the coffin lingered in his vision he curled his hands into fists and then began to pound at his temples like possibly he could somehow knock or concuss the fuckers out but which only resulted in hands holding his wrists firm and then the low soothing tones that had helped him before.

"Babe, stop."

"Roman, they all fuckin' saw me."

" _He_ saw you brother, nobody else."

"But what if he – ,"

"Nothing to be ashamed of remember?"

Except for the fact that he had totally freaked out and not simply in front of his two brothers and best friends but possibly in front of a bunch of strangers as well, which was frankly a whole lot more than his sense of machismo could handle, not least of all only three months after having been buried beneath the sand.

Mostly when he messed up he could laugh it off somehow, but for the first time in his life was failing to make that work and it was leaving him with no way of processing the trauma because how in the fuck was he meant to let it out?

Seth hauled a breath in,

"One time back in prison I like, totally flipped out when I lost a photograph of my mom,"

Dean frowned,

"What?"

"I brought it in from home with me because I kinda wanted something to remind me of her, but because I was a cop I had a hard time from people so when the photo vanished I figured someone had torn it up. I was so bummed out that I lay on my bed for an hour and cried my freaking eyes out like a little lost child until I figured the pin had fallen out of the concrete and the damn stupid thing had been lying on the floor."

Dean blinked back at him,

"Uh, okay – ,"

"But the _point_ is man, that I was in a bad place and I was letting that out because every single person since time began or whatever has lost it at some stage because it's fucking _normal_ okay?"

Roman snorted wryly from beside him,

"Did I ever tell you 'bout the time I lost my kid?"

"No."

In response their powerhouse blew a long breath out and then threw his brown eyes up into the air before murmuring something which was totally indecipherable but was clearly a silent thanks to the heavens that whatever the story was it had worked out in the end. Not that it managed to make the memory a happy one, as his super tensed up fingers made clear by beginning to paw a little harder through the tangle of messed up and mildly sweaty copper blonde hair.

Dean leaned into it subconsciously.

 _Better_.

"I mean I turned my back for three damn seconds and the next thing I know my baby girl ain't there and this was maybe three or four nights before the holidays and in the _mall_ too so there were people _everywhere_ but with my fat ass in the middle of them screaming and going crazy. I mean my heart stopped at least ten times."

Huh.

Poor Roman.

Poor _kid_ for that matter because the copper blonde knew what a paragon she was and how much the munchkin looked up to her father and suckered herself to him whenever he was around.

Seth cleared his throat which sounded loud in the silence,

"How long was she lost for?"

"Five minutes, maybe less but I'm telling you brother that for every second she wasn't with me I turned into the biggest damn mess you ever saw. I got nauseous, I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't function and that lasted until my baby girl was back in my arms."

Dean frowned and then wondered if that was the reason that their bigger man had known his own panic attack, because maybe it was similar to what he himself had been through.

He started as a hand landed warm on his nape,

"Wha – ,"

"Now you believe that it happens to the best of us?"

Dean blew a breath out,

"I mean, I _guess_ – ,"

Roman hummed a note out like he had wanted a better answer but in the end clearly figured that the bewilderment worked well enough, so then snorted in amusement and continued the tousling by kneading his big pads slowly over the cool scalp and the copper blonde responded by heaving a long sigh out and then letting his blue eyes flicker briefly and slide shut,

"I know one person who has never freaked out before."

Seth crossed his heels and leaned back,

"Who?"

"The Vampire Queen."

"Steph?"

Dean clicked his fingers and then made a handgun gesture because he was honestly too wiped out to say the word bingo and so reverted to having to mime the thing our for them. Roman snorted wryly beside him and the motion bounced his chest up and out so that the middle man was sort of bumped in time with it since he was slumped pretty heavily in towards their big pet.

Dean could hear the smile in the comeback,

"Well that's because I said it happens to the best."

 _Ooooh_.

Dean snorted and then let his lips turn up a little, because even exhausted it was a hell of a burn and one that he felt like he should have shown some for love for but which was then interrupted by an unexpected lurch which pitched him back even harder into their powerhouse and planted their tech whiz into the burnished handrail,

"Fuck."

Make that two for the _pissing blood_ fun times.

But on the plus side it meant their prison cell was back moving which it confirmed a second later by beginning to hum and then speeding towards the floor. Which their bulky little lookout waiting downstairs in the lobby felt the need to then butt in and further underline,

" _Elevator is back up and running now fellers_."

Dean snorted loosely in response.

No shit.

He hauled himself back up onto his boot soles helped by their powerhouse who then turned to Seth and began to prod at the bruise over his kidney which was becoming an occupational hazard for them. Dean let his fingers move towards his back pocket and the crumpled bit of paper he had pushed into them before, which had landed on his welcome mat earlier that morning with a stamp from the penitentiary which had chilled him to the bone.

Kevin had agreed to see him.

 _Kevin_.

His initial reaction to that had been panic but for some bizarre reason having been trapped with his brothers and then soothed back to normalcy had made his stance change, because maybe there truly _was_ nothing to feel shame about, but the best way to test that was to meet it head on and to tackle the face that had haunted his nightmares and look him in the eyes.

Kevin Owens had no hold.

Moments before the elevator halted and then pinged to let them know they had hit the lobby floor, Roman reached over and placed a palm on his shoulder which made him look up,

"How you feeling babe?"

Seth too was peering across the space in between them with a hand pressed lightly to his new throbbing flank but with brown eyes entirely focused on their brother and keen to know that things were right in the world. It was the love of both men and the strength of their brotherhood made the copper blonde nod back at them and mean it.

"All good."

* * *

 **Ugh, these boys and their stupid brotherhood is just so easy to write! PLEASE don't mess that up for WWE creative team (cries because I know they will). Still, this AU is safe, so don't worry!**

 **Okay then, next week Dean is in need of a nursemaid and a very unlikely suggestion pops up, with interesting consequences...**


	22. The Hippocratic Oaf

**Okay, get ready for some crazy in this one, courtesy of one very special character. Also, I would just like to say for the record that I have never in my life been so proud of a chapter title. That is all.**

 **Skovko, Yep, that not being able to breathe part is rough and it** _ **hurts.**_ **I figure that Dean is pretty good at holding his shit together for the most part, but everyone has to break at some point. Or, okay, so maybe I was just looking for shameless brother fluff! Hope you're neighbour isn't kicking off today, but if he is, I hope this helps!**

 **Mandy, Hey girl, how are you holding up this week? We're already nearly halfway through October, so just remember that you're doing it and that you're getting there, day by day. I know last week's story was a pretty serious one, but hopefully this one will make you laugh or smile at least because you totally deserve that.**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you, hope you like this chapter too, it's pretty wild (which is a pun by the way, which should make more sense once you've read it, with any luck!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, Dean needed to have a release there. I never get the impression that he's the kind of guy that would tell a stranger (for example a therapist) his innermost thoughts and feelings, but Seth and Roman are a different kettle of fish, so if he was ever going to (vaguely) pour his heart out then it would have to be to them. I love this week's one, was in two minds about writing it because maybe it was too crazy, but here it is anyway!**

 **Cherry619, Haha, bingo! Yep, what can I say, I stumbled on the basic idea and then loved it so much I had to turn it into a chapter. I mean, who wouldn't love to see our favourite puppy trying to take care of someone (except maybe Dean?!) Hope you like. He really does try!**

 **Cheryl24, Awww, thanks, glad you liked it. Went a bit serious on you with the content last week, so now I'm going to lighten things up with a long overdue appearance of everyone's favourite. It's been too long since I wrote this clueless puppy, here's hoping you like it!**

 **Rebel8954, Luckily I'm not claustrophobic, but I am anxious so I figure that translates pretty well. I was okay in my MRI (minor brain tumour a couple of years back, I'm all good) but bizarrely I found my feet got really cold, so that was my big complaint about it! Yep, always good to have Seth and Roman there. I love my boys being cute and protective. Even though, as this chapter shows, they sometimes cause the trouble too!**

 **Minnie1015, Agreed, I'm not sure if there will ever come a day when I don't love writing Roman being all cuddly and protective. Him saying 'babe' will always, always be my thing! Do you think if we petition the WWE they will keep our boys together forever and ever? Right, let's get our heads together and think how we can make that a thing!**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Did you mean a Shield story with Lio and Bobby? I've got the next twelve or so stories written up, but I'm always keeping ideas on the back burner so I'll see what I can do when everything else is up. Hope you like this one in the meantime though!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Ooh spooky. But really, our poor battered boy is a prime candidate for being stuck in a lift/elevator and also for all the kidnappings and the danger I put him through! I'm so mean, including in this chapter, bit for very different reasons *chuckle, evil grin***

 **Ohana1337, Yep, panic attacks and flashbacks are the worst. I have a best friend who has PTSD and gets flashbacks and I know she gets them really bad sometimes. Lucky Dean has his best bros to help him. Roman and Sethie boy for the win always! Oh yeah, strap in because this chapter is a crazy one. Crazy with a capital B (that should make more sense once you start to read it!)**

 **Here comes the madness...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: The Hippocratic Oaf**

Roman had held him upright and braced him to his body while their technically blessed brother had built the pillow nest up, before carefully peeling back one fold of the covers and helping the copper blonde to clamber across. Dean had flopped face first onto the mattress and then barked in bewilderment and clapped a hand to his mouth where something painful and _sticky_ had been happening and which he hadn't liked remotely.

"Fot fuh fuck fis fat?"

His tones had been pretty bizarrely sort of _mumbled_ thanks to whatever had been wadded up inside his cheek and he had lifted a loose hand to explore it more closely before then having it sharply and harshly batted back,

"Leave it alone man."

"Fut fot _is_ it?"

"Gauze from the surgery babe, it's okay."

Um –

Did he say surgery?

Dean had blinked in bewilderment and then loosened off a further unhappy little moan as the pillow mound behind him had been plumped ever higher which had brought his head and mouth up had but bumped him hard as well.

Levering his tongue into a twisted position he had sought out the source of the pulsating pain and had then hit on something which had felt bizarrely woolly but had tasted like metal and so was probably thick with blood.

He had frowned a little in concern,

"I'm bleebin'."

"You had a tooth out, of course you are man."

"A toof?"

Roman had snorted in response to his confusion from where he had been placing a tall pitcher of fresh water and popper pack of pain pills on the nightstand beside the bed, but had then reached his hand out to fondly pet his tousle before rumbling in low tones at him,

"You're gonna be fine babe."

Based on the ever trusted word of their powerhouse the copper blonde had slumped back and then lost himself in sleep but had woken momentarily with limited coherence to the sound of low murmurings and hands in his cheek, which had seemingly been pulling loose the blood covered padding but had been shot through with terseness,

"He owes me for this."

Dampened material had mopped him seconds later as one of his brothers had put a washcloth to his face and the warmth and sensation of the thing had made him mumble and then screw his face up because he was _not_ a freaking kid.

Roman had sighed,

"Is he gonna be okay here?"

"Stephanie needs us there man, so it's not like we have a choice."

"Doesn't seem right up and leaving him like this."

"Well then there is _one_ more option – ,"

But whatever that option was had been lost as thick banks of sleep clouds had billowed up on him and pulled him beneath their comforting folds and then held him there in a beautiful sort of limbo which had been kind of _nice_ though because it had felt soft and warm. His brothers had been stood talking loosely in the background but close to him and so therefore the world had seemed right and he had fallen over the brink with a measure of contentment and a feeling of safety.

He woke up to pure alarm.

"Huh, wha – ?"

Brilliant sunlight was beaming in on him but _way_ too brightly through a kink in the blinds and so was basically trying to burn a path through his retinas that made him regret having opened them at all. Mumbling unhappily he turned himself over but then toppled surprisingly face first onto the bed because evidently he had been sleeping propped up for some reason and so in moving had lodged himself from the man-made pillow nest.

He frowned,

"The fuck, _ow_."

Discomfort bloomed through him as he landed hard on the fleshiest part of his face but which seemed to bubble up from _inside_ his soft palate and which the point of his tongue then rapidly sought out because what in the name of holy hell was happening to him and where were his boys and why the fuck was he in bed? He could barely even remember what part of the _week_ it was and the bewilderment was not helping his increasingly thumping head.

Probing at his upper teeth one by one carefully he blinked when his tongue plunged into a sudden large trench that he swore backwards and forwards had not been there earlier and which tasted both bloodied and fleshy and raw.

Flickers of coherence and memory returned to him.

Dentistry chairs –

Needles –

Halogen lighting –

 _Oh yeah_.

His troublesome upper wisdom tooth had been hacksawed clean out of him because his ever hounding brothers had convinced him it was for the best, but only once he had tantrumed and refused the surgery outright because he had never been under the knife like that before and so had therefore been unsure of putting his best feature into the hands of a potential psychopath holding a novocaine shot.

Not that he had been _frightened_ about it.

Fuck no.

He had been – uh – _naturally cautious_ instead and so the fact that his best friends had hovered in the waiting room throughout the procedure had been entirely their own choice and the comfort he had taken from them being there beside him had been based on force of habit and not on nerves in the least.

Rubbing a hand over his exhaustion wearied features and then pushing back the fact that he knew _that_ was crap, he called out plaintively for his overbearing brothers in tones that were harsher than he had banked on biting out, but which he figured were the knockout meds taking a toll on him or the blood that was beginning to pool between his teeth and being pumped harder by the lazily thudding heartbeat that he could feel in every part of his poor unhappy mouth.

"Roman?"

Nothingness responded to his mumble so he tried it a second time a little louder,

"Seth?"

His tongue probed back into the tooth trench on instinct and knocked loose a fleshy clot that made the blood flowed hot.

Damn.

He paused in the hopes of hearing plodding footsteps, or the sounds of one of his missing brothers hurrying in, wearing the usual expression of panic and familial love that he had come to expect and therefore feeling it a little like a sucker punch when the apartment remained empty and his shouts remained unheard.

Had they freaking _left_ him there bleeding like a faucet?

How in the hell was _that_ okay?

Rolling himself further over onto his stomach he bench pressed up weakly off his bloodied and throbbing face, then peeled back a superheated corner of the covers before trying his level best to poke a foot out.

Fuck it was cold.

Dean levered himself upright and then rapidly wished that he had simply kept flat because the shift in the horizon sent his head spinning wildly and then made it look like his bedroom was on a tilt. He tried to blink through it but then lost his equilibrium so flopped backwards into the pillow mound feeling helpless.

 _Crap_.

"Come on you two, this isn't fuckin' funny."

Flat feet on hallway carpet bit back hurriedly in response and on hearing it the copper blonde blew a long breath out and then tried not to look like he had been mildly freaking out, but which he probably failed at because he felt pretty totalled not to mention swollen and bloodied and kind of _fuzzy_ in the head.

His bedroom door creaked open by a fraction like the teammate that was out there was unsure of heading in but which frankly stoked up more levels of confusion because for the most part his brothers were as at home there as him. Hovering on the threshold like they were frightened of it therefore, made categorically _no_ sense to him at all and frayed his last nerve until he barked towards the figure which responded by flinching,

"What the fuck man? _Come in_."

Brilliant wide eyes poked apprehensively past the framework and a hand then waved happily,

"You're awake again."

" _Bo?"_

Dean blinked in horror over the end of the bedstead because the other man having materialized there seemed too bizarre to be real and so _had_ to be the throes of a nightmare, since no _way_ would his brothers have let the beaming moron in. Bo however merely chuckled back too brightly in response to the shock likely etched over his face, then trampled in clumsily over the threshold with his hands flung wide open like he was looking for a freaking _hug_ ,

"I'm here to make sure my best friend feels better."

 _Nope_.

Dean bellowed with a building panic,

"Uce?"

Because surely – _surely_ – the brothers that loved him had not fucking left him in such haphazard hands, since the man stood before him was so freaking _special_ that it was basically a miracle he remembered to breathe in or could clothe himself properly without putting his pants on backwards or could eat with knives and forks instead of using a baby spoon.

Dallas had certain interesting _skill sets_ that in the past had proven helpful to the missions they had been on, but the copper blonde lawman was pretty freaking confident that _caregiving_ was not a theme on which their puppy would be too hot.

Bo held up a finger,

"Now, now, no shouting – shouting is bad and you need your rest."

Dean pushed himself up further on the pillows,

"Where are the others?"

"Other whats?"

" _My teammates_."

Dean honestly hadn't been trying to sound so murderous but the tension and bewilderment were pretty hard to shake loose, besides which the blood was still making his tongue tangy and he was lightheaded not to mention becoming ever more hot.

Bo blinked,

"The big one and the one who's always angry?"

"Yeah man."

"Oh they went out a little while back."

" _What_?"

Dean could literally not believe what he was hearing because pretty much his worst case scenario had come true and the two men in life that he trusted over all others had left him _post operatively_ to flounce off to who knew where.

Hurt billowed up in him and then burst like a bubble as he fell back into the pillows with a wounded little huff which blew out beneath a low browed frown of pure insult that he knew made him look teenaged but which he couldn't help but feel. Because why in the hell would his brothers have walked out on him while he was lying fast asleep but still needed them the most?

It made no sense.

Fuck, he wished that his fiancé was there with him because she had looked after him in the best kind of way and especially in the months when his skull had been recovering from having been bust by the base of a chair.

He pictured her running her fingers over his brow line and smoothing his hair back and it made his body hitch and then triggered the familiar wetness that he hated right in the corner of his mottled blue orbs, where he hurriedly wiped them loose with the back of his knuckles and which luckily his beaming caregiver seemed not to see,

"They left you a note."

"Huh?"

Bo pointed towards the nightstand where a pitcher of water and some pain pills had been placed but beneath which was a loosely flapping notelet of paper that in the throes of his tantrum he had totally freaking missed.

He hooked the thing up and then quickly skimmed through it by bouncing his eyes along the lopsided scrawl which helped to fill in the rest of the puzzle and soothe his fear-of-abandonment nerves, because based on the message they hadn't _wanted_ to skip out on him but had been forced to by order of their commissioner.

"Fuckin' Steph."

"Oooh, bad word warning,"

Bo shook his head at him which made the weary lawman roll his eyes in response but then soften a little in a measure of repentance, since the man tasked with his care was a bizarre lost experiment that had crossbred a hardened criminal with a lily white nun.

Dean hauled a breath in and then steadied himself,

"M' sorry, but look – ,"

"Would it help to have a nice bowl of my famous homemade soup?"

Dean blinked back at him full of hesitance,

"Homemade?"

"By my own two hands with tender loving care."

Bo beamed proudly and then held his thickset paws up like his patient could somehow work out by merely looking at them whether or not the broth was worthy of his time, or else to his liking or some type of nonsense but which the copper blonde frowned at because how was he supposed to know?

Nevertheless though he felt his stomach rumble and so narrowed his baby blues at him,

"What kinda soup we talkin' here?"

"Chicken noodle surprise."

"Huh."

"I know – sounds tasty."

Except for the entirely frightening but emphasized _surprise_ part, the bouncy little moron was pretty much right, besides which the lawman hardly believed for a second that the man stood before him had made the broth himself since the kid likely figured that opening a packet or turning on a cooker passed as being _homemade_ and so therefore the risk of food poisoning seemed minimal.

Dean waved a hand at him,

"I mean I figure I could have _some_ – ,"

"Whoopee."

"But I'm pretty sure I'm not meant to have hot stuff on account of the surgery so – ,"

Bo bounced on his toes,

"I cross-my-heart promise you'll really _really_ like it."

His happiness was lovable but troubling at once since the moron was beaming and clapping his hands together like nobody had ever had a taste of the broth before, or else had run screaming having seen the ingredients, which would not have been a freaking surprise to him at all.

Dean leaned surreptitiously in towards the hallway then breathed in heavily to check for vomit notes but instead found only the smell of his apartment and the pillow that he liked to keep spritzed with her perfume to keep _her_ there in the room they had shared together.

Bo beamed broadly,

"Be back in a minute with a soup bowl for my bestie."

Dean faked a smile,

"Great."

But it slid from his features the second the kid had left him because frankly the whole thing was still the buzzkill from hell and bringing him low in both mood and fucking _energy_ but the latter of which was likely the trusty knockout pills.

He let his eyes fall to the hastily scribbled notelet and then read the specifics of it through a second time, in case he had missed some loose clue to their mission or a hint of what their boss had called them in last minute for. He figured that it had to have been something pretty serious because she knew that they were there trying to minister to him and so therefore wouldn't have ripped them from their henning and brotherly mothering without reasonable cause.

Steph wasn't _that_ much of an ice queen surely?

Not when it came to her best men anyhow.

Loosely rattling chinaware brought him back into the present as his ever chirpy caregiver tiptoed back in from the hall, balancing a tray with a steaming bowl on top of it and poking his tongue out as he tried not to fall.

Bo held the soup out,

"Chicken noodle surprise time,"

Dean hated to admit it but the concoction smelt _good_ like maybe it was possibly both tasty and filling but which was pretty surprising based on who it was from and which was why the copper blonde took the tray cautiously and from beneath a lifted eyebrow,

"This came out of a packet right?"

"Nope, I made a fresh batch while you were sleeping."

"What?"

"Your kitchen might be a _bit_ of a mess."

Bo held his thumb and forefinger up in front of him to indicate a baseless sort of measurement of the scene which left no clue as to the levels of chaos he had created and so in response to it the lawman bit back a breath, then tried not to think too hard on the burn marks and probable stack of pans that were brimming over in his sink.

Trying to help.

Bo was trying to help him _._

Dean echoed that thought a few pointless times more and then picked up the spoon for a tentative tasting that he was terrified about but which his stomach insisted on and the process of which was looked over hawklike by the moron of a chef bouncing happily by his side.

Honestly the copper blonde had been braced for something terrible so therefore responded with a blink of bewilderment as the warm taste of chicken broth slid past his throat and stripped off the lingering blood and surgery ickiness that had been festering in his mouth and making him feel _meh_.

Much to his surprise, the soup had some of everything –

Flavor.

Body.

Bo Dallas knew how to _cook_?

In many ways the sentence seemed totally improbable but there was the truth in warm and tasty black and white and which the pup himself seemed to know on base instinct since he couldn't hold back from sounding royally smug,

"I _knew_ you would like it."

"Bo, this is actually – ,"

"My Nana."

Dean blinked back in very mild concern,

"What?"

Because knowing his luck the hidden ingredient was a prize lock of Old Grandmother Dallas' hair or a handful of her ashes from an urn on the mantelpiece since pretty much anything was possible with the kid. Bo however merely laughed back hysterically then slapped at his kneecaps as he battled for breath,

"Oopsie no, I meant this is her _recipe_ not that she's _in_ it because that would be weird."

"Not for you."

"Huh?"

Dean smiled back broadly,

"Didn't say a word man, you must be hearin' stuff."

Based on the fact that he was so freaking hungry and that the broth was hot and too nice to pass up, the copper blonde ladled another spoonful into his body before throwing in another and _another_ on top of that figuring that the risk of it opening up the blood flow would possibly be worth it if it saved him from passing out and so had therefore maybe hoovered up about a third of the helping before something in his throat tickled and then kicked him like a horse.

He coughed,

"The _fuck_ man – ,"

His entire throat was burning as were his tonsils and the roof of his mouth, like some wildfire had bust out in one of his molars and was blitzing through the place scorching nerve endings as it went. Bo blinked back at him cluelessly for a second and then snapped his fingers,

"Ohh, that must be the chilli."

"Wha – ,"

"Nana liked her food to have a little kick to it."

"A _little_ kick?"

Dean was having trouble even trying to breathe straight because the peppers from hell or whatever the things were had possibly permanently laid waste to his throat and very likely also to his bodily thermometer since he was suddenly beading moisture from both his pits and his _head_.

"Detective Ambrose, would you like some water?"

Holy hell.

Dean needed an entire _swimming pool_ but luckily the barely concerned sounding enquiry reminded him of the pitcher that his brothers had left on the stand and which he sprang towards violently like the thing was a lifeline before tossing back the contents in a clumsy handed spill.

Blood and tap water blended unhappily over his taste buds but slowly and mercifully then began to take effect, so that by the time he felt like he had maybe salvaged his vocal cords his fury had bloomed too.

"Bo – ,"

"Oh, Is something wrong?"

"Are you _tryin'_ to fuckin' kill me?"

Innocent little puppy looking eyes blinked right back at him, like the kid had no idea what on earth might have gone wrong, but which the half filled pitcher and harsh frown clued him into with a surprised sounding hiccup of remorsefulness.

"Too hot?"

"Pretty sure there's a volcano somewhere missin' some lava."

"I'm not sure what – ,"

" _Way_ too hot."

"Oh."

For possibly twenty seconds or a longer, since the lawman was too busy riding out chilli sweats to take a totally accurate note, the two of them respectively stood and lay in silence because in spite of their mutual fondness the pair were hardly friends. Well, Dean wasn't anyway but then thinking about it he could have sworn that the kid had called him his best friend, besides which the pup certainly _looked_ to be wounded which bothered the copper a frustrating amount and _then_ made him feel like kind of a bully since the kooky little fool had only been trying to help.

Dean bit his lip,

"Listen man, I'm sorry but I'm feelin' kinda crap here so – ,"

"Would you like to meet my pet?"

Dean figured for a second that maybe he had heard things since the chirrup was launched from so far out of the blue that frankly had he said it in a series clicks and whistles the question would have made about the same sense.

He blinked in bewilderment,

"Your what?"

"My new puppy."

"You talkin' about like an _actual_ pet here?"

Bo trapped a nerve by nodding too heavily and then totally threw his sense of balance too which threw him sideways into the cupboard beside the bathroom with an inelegant and pretty resounding sort of crash but stopped the flow for only three seconds before he laughed out brightly and then carried on,

"I found him wandering out the highway looking kind of hungry and thin so I took him home to feed him up properly and the cutie pie has been my buddy ever since."

Dean blinked.

Huh.

Bo could cook _and_ save canines?

He honestly had to hand it to the lovable moron that his one remaining brain cell carried a hell of a lot of heart and beyond his main fear that chicken soup had been the feeding tool, the kid saving a pup was an unmistakably selfless movie.

Besides which the undercover man loved animals but had never been able to have one himself since his life had been spent in cramped apartment buildings that the breeds he preferred would have totally filled and because he _refused_ to buy some pretentious freaking toy breed, because he was a man so therefore needed something real.

Dean blew out a breath then waved his hands in bewilderment,

"Uh sure man, I mean bring it up if you want."

Bo nodded keenly,

"You'll love him I promise."

"Pretty sure you said the same freakin' thing about the soup."

Dean had to bellow the last part into the hallway because the perky little man had already blitzed off, with a literal skip of genuine happiness at having been allowed to bring up his pooch or more likely because that was his everyday setting.

In response to it the copper blonde flopped back into the pillow nest and let his eyelids tug heavily because _fuck_ was he tired, which he figured was the whole horrible dental procedure but which the internal chilli fire had probably not helped too much. His throat still felt burnt and so he coughed a touch too harshly which then blew loose the blood clot and set the trickling back up.

Crap.

Dean briefly wondered what his brothers were up to.

More than that –

He wondered if they needed his help, because it seemed too bizarre not being there with them keeping his hand in things and crucially, having their backs.

Dean cursed his impacted wisdom tooth bitterly and then was still busy bemoaning it when he heard the lock click and then a scrabbling of feet which were followed by laughter as his crazy informant was evidently pulled back into the hall.

"Whoa, Sparky, easy boy."

Dean was expecting a lumbering bull mastiff or something else large but inherently not-smart and so therefore merely stared in levels of horror at the creature that eventually burst into his room, which was lean and skinny but muscular and mottled and a vast many things but in _no_ _way_ a dog.

Fuck.

"What the _hell_ – ,"

Dean launched back into the pillows but was prevented from scrambling further by the head of the bed, even though he kept on trying anyway because the beast stood in front of him was too insane to figure out, or look away from, like a car crash in real time.

Bo had brought a fucking _coyote_ into his room.

Not that the man himself seemed to know it since he merely came padding in on the end of the blue leash with his cheeks flushed proudly and a beam of elation.

"Here he is, this is Sparky."

He swept a flattened hand towards the snapping and snarling wild creature which was probably terrified at being collared and leashed, but which mostly looked as though it wanted to maul their damn throats out and possibly paint their blood over the carpet or walls, so in no way belonged in the bedroom of an apartment in the middle of a city freaking _miles_ from its natural home.

Dean blinked a few times,

"Bo that's – ,"

"His coat is super nice now because I put him in the bathtub before we came out and let me tell you he was _not_ keen on the bubbles, he kept trying to bite me and claw my eyes out."

Dean wet his lips in a steadying manoeuvre,

 _Crap_.

"Listen to me man, that is _not_ what you think it is."

"I figure he's a shepherd mix or a – ,"

"Bo, he's a coyote."

Bewildered looking eyes peered back like he was crazy and which _one_ of them was only it sure wasn't Dean, since _he_ hadn't brought a rabid carnivore into the apartment which – okay – might have seemed fairly pooch like had he squinted at it, or possibly been temporarily blind but which in no way factored in the bristling hackles or the panicked salivating or the exposed rows of teeth.

How had the thing not killed the big idiot?

Hold up –

Had he seriously put it in the _bath_?

Bo shook his head then let out a little chuckle like maybe he thought he was being set up and then followed _that_ by freaking _reaching his hand out_ _to_ _stroke it_ which was a horrible plan.

"Detective Ambrose, it's not nice to tease people."

Dean snapped back at him,

"Don't _touch_ it."

"Why not?"

In response the copper blonde put a tentative hand out because honestly he was scared that the thing might try to launch and which wouldn't have been ideal with his handgun in its holster locked away for the night in the safe in the lounge.

"Do me a favor here chuckles and look at it, I mean _really_ look at it for me."

Bo blinked,

"Huh?"

But fortunately he then shrugged in his usual happy manner then complied by leaning in and furrowing his brows, before peering over the pelt of his buddy and the mottled reddish flecks built for living in the wild and the pointed ears and the cold staring eyeballs and then the fact that it was hunkered like it was readying to pounce.

Dean saw the moment that recognition hit him, because the kid looked like he had been punched in the lungs, or possibly _had_ been based on the noise which then squeaked out of him that sounded like a mix between an inhale and a scream.

Bo clapped hands to his mouth,

"Oh no, oh _no_ no."

Perfect.

Evidently the hapless moron was completely freaking out, which was not in the least bit helpful to either one of them, but especially to the woozy feeling and cornered copper blonde,

"Bo, I need you to take it outside now,"

"No, no – ,"

"It's fine man, you've had this thing for a _week_ so freakin' pick up the leash and lead it the hell outta here like I'm fixin' you probably have like a _million_ times before, then let it loose once you're outta the buildin' so it can head for the hills."

Paunchy cheeks shook,

"I can't – ,"

" _Bo_."

Dean barked his name but then flinched momentarily as the coyote swivelled its head and sort of lowered with intent, at which point the informant let out a shriek and then scarpered, throwing the leash to one side in his panic and charging from the bedroom like he was being freaking chased, but which he _wasn't_ because the coyote was still crouched beside the closet and salivating hard at the trapped copper blonde.

Dean hissed frantically,

" _Bo_ – ,"

Nothing.

Fucking really?

He would certainly be having words with his informant if he survived, not to mention with the best friends who had called the kid in the first place or had thought for so much as a singular _second_ that Bo Dallas was the solution to not having a nursemaid there.

"Fuck."

His harsh curse once more startled the carnivore who then curled a lip up and snarled over the bed and Dean tensed up and felt his palms moisten on instinct because frankly he was terrified and had no hint of a working plan. He needed to trap the thing or corner it somehow but was limited by his bedroom and the fact he still felt like hot crap and so briefly thought on simply flushing it back out into the hallway and then into the main building so someone else could take the lead.

But then again most of his neighbors were elderly women and provided that they weren't eaten would have probably phoned the cops or else animal control who would have probably shown up and shot it and which the nature lover inside of him would have carried remorse about.

Crap.

Dean needed to land on a plan pretty rapidly before he became the lean entrée to lunch and then happened to look up towards the threshold of his bathroom in an absent sort of move which then filled him with hope.

 _Bingo_.

Because if he could by some miracle force the rumbling canid into the bathroom and then shut the door he could keep it corralled and therefore away from his elderly neighbors, the mailman, children and more crucially _himself_.

He sucked in a breath –

Fuck.

How had this happened?

But he began to slowly move his foot at the same time in a careful inching motion that fought his basic instinct to move a million miles an hour and never sit still, since usually his foot was always bouncing or he was clicking or tapping and turning the little rod brothers half wild and which therefore was probably the reason he did it with the pace and conviction he usually did.

Dean wet his lips and then stood up in a creeping half-speed.

His head spun –

Blood loss.

Nope not now.

In the corner of his eyes he could see the thing watching him and so pushed on through the black spots trying not to plant face first because he figured that keeling over would then probably be the end for him and didn't want to be eaten by a rabid wolf cousin in his room.

By the time he reached the bathroom he was sweating uncontrollably from the tension and the knockout meds still fucking him up and so fumbled for the handle in palms that were slickened and which then very nearly slithered hopelessly back off.

Death would be mightily slow for his informant. He promised that much.

Dean turned back into the room and then braced himself for the next part of his plan, since none of it was something he would have a second shot at, on account of the whole snarling, blood stained hackles-and-teeth bit.

He pursed his lips,

"Hey, you wanna have a piece 'a this Sparky, because it's on the house man, I mean I'm kinda _scrappy_ I guess, but there's enough for a taster – ,"

Possibly a bit more.

Crap.

Bad thought.

In response to it the coyote snarled — again— then crept in at him like it was seriously thinking about taking the offer up and which sent the pounding copper blonde heart tumbling over because what in the hell was he trying to prove? He was taunting a coyote that had been let loose in his bedroom, having had his fucking wisdom tooth recently removed and while wobbling on his feet like he had been pounding rows of shots back and without help or support in _any_ freaking shape or form.

He had to be mad.

Mad but with a purpose and so he waved his hands wildly,

" _Move_ you fuckin' thing."

Possibly because it understood the language or hated being shouted at or a little of both, the teeth laden beast suddenly launched without warning in a positive _springing_ motion that took the lawman by surprise and then forced him to root through his last reserves of energy or else be fully eaten.

Dean leaped out of the way and banged into the opposite half of the framework as the fast moving mammal then flew past him in mid-air and landed on the bath mat which he skittered away on leaving the copper blonde a split second to lock it up.

 _Bang_.

He slammed the handle into place rapidly and then flinched as on the other side the creature charged the wood but happily bounced back snarling in rebuttal before beginning to scratch and rampage in hot wrath and which he could hear pretty much laying waste to his bathroom.

His head spun again.

 _Whoa_.

"Time to pass out."

Luckily he managed to not hit the carpet since he made it to his bed and then flopped onto it face first before letting his heartbeat and the swirling in his brainstem take control of his consciousness in full force blackout mode with his skin soaked and prickling and his vision falling sharply as he felt himself fall into the inky black gloom, while the blood continued to tang bitterly on his taste buds and make the whole thing worse.

Dental surgery _sucked_.

Dean had no idea how long he was then out for but moved back into wakefulness as hands palmed his hips and as a low tone rumbled out familial but worried, like it frequently seemed to have reason to be.

"Uce?"

Make that _two_ tones.

"Dean, open your eyes man."

In response to them he peeked one lethargic blue orb up and into the bewildered looking faces of his team, who were probably surprised to see him sprawled out face forwards not to mention lying over the bottom of sheets, but which it turned were the least of their numerous worries.

Seth furrowed his brows,

"What's going on man? Why the hell is your kitchen covered in chilli flakes and saucepans? It looks like a tornado went through in there."

Dean let out an unimpressed moan and then flapped a hand out, waving it towards his bathroom,

"Look in there."

"Huh?"

"Do me a favour an' freakin' look will ya?"

Blood still tingled on his tongue as he mumbled but no longer seemed to be so slick or hot and so based on that point he figured maybe the wound was healing which he supposed was a better prospect than him continually bleeding out.

Seth shared a baffled sort of look with their powerhouse but then moved towards the bathroom and peeked his head in before responding in tones of horror and bewilderment,

"Alright, but I'm not sure what – _holy_ _fuck_."

Dean heard the lock click back in place suddenly, followed by snarling noises over a hiss of pure shock and so couldn't stop from smiling into the folds of the comforter because that was their punishment for having left him alone.

Seth barked loudly,

"Is there a _coyote_ in your bathroom?"

"Mmhmm."

"What the hell for?"

His response was simple.

"Bo."

Neither of his brothers responded verbally to the statement but their faces registered pretty heavy levels of remorse, which the copper blonde noted with a morbid satisfaction because, _fuck_ he _hoped_ they felt freaking bad.

Leaving him alone there –

Bleeding profusely and with a moron.

Dean would certainly be bringing _that_ up a bunch more, if not possibly for the rest of their however long life spans since he felt that he had earned it.

Bo.

Freaking _Bo_.

In the end it took three specialist animal handlers and a tranquilizer rifle to remove the snarling beast from the room which the copper blonde was told about in full some hours later since his brothers insisted on him moving to the couch and so therefore away from the coyote line of fire had the freaking thing managed to slip the net at any time and where the two men could watch him like hawks while he slumbered as the pair of them worked on cleaning the place up.

Later still they agreed a brand new ruling.

Bo Dallas was no longer their emergency contact call.

* * *

 **Bo! God I missed that absolute little Froot Loop. I know, I know, that chapter was madness and I did kind of worry it was maybe too mad, but it was crying to be written and Bo** _ **is**_ **madness so there we have it.**

 **Next week it's time for Roman to be in trouble. But what kind of trouble and will the others find him in time?**

 **Dun, dun, duuuunnnnn….**


	23. Release The Hounds

**Well, after what we learned about Roman last Monday, I feel like maybe this chapter came at pretty much the right time, especially as some parts that I wrote months and months ago seem to especially resonate now. Either way, I'm sure we all want some brother love and in the real life TV absence of our big man, I'm here to try and provide for us all.**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Maybe I should have made Bo have a pet crocodile, but sadly I don't think even our crazy puppy is that dumb! I feel like his next pet would probably be a sewer rat though which he would probably have mistaken for a hamster or something. Or a zebra he thinks is a really stripey horse! The possibilities are endless!**

 **Ohana1337, How would things not get crazy with Bo? But on the plus side he didn't demolish a building or set fire to the apartment or get anybody killed, so in hindsight it could have been a lot worse really. I mean, I don't think Dean would agree but then what does he know huh?**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Haha, I'm glad you liked it, I love being able to write the crazy ones sometimes. I mean, danger is all well and good, but everyone needs to have a laugh sometimes too (well, not Dean so much in the last one, but oh well!) Yep, Roman in the thick of it this week. Wouldn't ever want to leave our Big Dog out of the fun. Hope you like it!**

 **Minnie1015, Well, luckily my dental surgery ended up much better since I had a trained nurse looking after me instead of a trained Bo! But yeah, always good to draw on a bit of experience, especially the coyote part...only kidding! The bit about probing the space where your tooth used to be though is pretty much me. You just can't help it! Yep, Roman is definitely in need of some help in this one. Might be a little bit bittersweet though I guess. Still, brotherliness goodness in spades!**

 **Cherry619, Awww, Bo and his pet rock would be totally adorable! I like to imagine it with googly stick on eyes too and some crudely drawn on lips! Glad you liked the last one though. Of course Bo wouldn't know the real names of Seth and Roman. Only Detective Ambrose...his very best friend *snickers* Bo is honestly the gift that keeps on giving. Him exasperating Dean is the best thing to write!**

 **Skovko, Pretty sure Dean's dentist did tell him no hot food, but a) Dean isn't much one for the rules and b) the dentist probably told Seth and Roman who probably told Bo who probably forgot! I mean, this is Bo after all and remembering things has never really proven to be his forte! God loves a trier though (as the saying goes).**

 **Mandy, Hey, not to worry, you get to my stories whenever you feel like it, or not at all if you don't feel in the mood. I know how you feel about taking a knock emotionally. The Roman thing was heavy. I tend to be a massive pessimist in life but hopefully,** _ **hopefully**_ **he will be okay and back on our screens. But Roman is still here in my stories and they will always be a super safe space for our lovely boys (well, maybe not Dean, I do love beating him up, but never too badly). Hang in there girl. I gotcha back!**

 **Rebel8954, I imagine there is a team of higher beings looking out for Bo and working on a 24 hour rolling rota, just sort of steering him away from open manhole covers and oncoming vehicles etc. A coyote is probably one of the easier things they've dealt with! Also, how much do I now love that as an idea in my head?!**

 **HannonsPen, Haha, thank you! All other story titles will be letdowns from this point. But hopefully the stories won't be! Hope you liked the last one (and this one, obvs).**

 **Time for the big man then...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Release The Hounds**

Roman caught his feet and then stumbled on the chippings which littered the face of the steep and pitted slope, which fell away in front of him towards the cover of the forest but which potentially risked killing him or breaking bone if he fell.

Damn.

Dogs barked somewhere way too close behind him and so hauling in a breath he began to trample a blundering path, cursing his heritage and the bulk of his people for the fact that he wasn't moving hurriedly enough. Seth he knew would have been streaking miles out in front of him had he been present to share in the crap and even his copper blonde and ever fractious middle brother would have been able to pump the pedal and put a burst of speed on.

But that was the problem –

Because his brothers _weren't_ with him and so he was having to face the situation on his own, which his pulsating heartbeat reminded him furiously as he pounded the barren earth and panted fit to burst. He stumbled again on a patch of loose chippings and then felt himself slide heavily onto his butt with a bang.

 _Ouch._

Little shards of rock pressed like blades into his fingers and then burrowed themselves mercilessly into the palms of his hands but the big man had no time to lament on them or tweeze them loose again because the hell hounds were moving closer and so too were the shouting men, who he needed to keep at bay for as long as he was able since he _had_ to hold out and wait for his team.

Right the moment he had found himself being hauled into the pickup truck with the foul smelling rag pressed in over his nose and mouth, Roman had known that his brothers would be looking and his faith in them had carried him through the last twenty four hours.

Dean was coming for him –

Seth was coming –

Because nothing and no one could hold his boys back and brushing loose the rock chips slicing his hands up he hauled himself vertical and then continued to scale the bluff, honing in on the treeline moving towards him and figuring that at least the leaves were better than the cage.

His heart set to pounding as the voices became louder and then crossed the last few feet into the forest at a run, but with one last look up towards the brilliant low sunshine to make sure he was heading for both the fence and the road.

He was.

So that was good.

His legs felt sluggish beneath his thick body from having been stagnant and kept lethargic for so long, because the homemade prison that his hump had been stuck up in had been big enough to stand in but not built for pacing around and so therefore he had mostly sat still on his backside and tried his level best to zen out and keep calm, with the exception of the chatter of the man caged beside him and the unhappy rare occasions on which their kidnappers had shown up.

Three in total –

Three he had _seen_ anyway because the voices up on the ridge back behind him made it sound like a bunch or so more.

He knew that the men who had taken him were family partly because they had worn the same snarl faced look and because the little skinny one with blonde hair like a haystack had hovered about the elders in the way that smaller kids siblings often would. In terms of their look they had the same camouflage fashion sense and keenness for taped spectacles which had been flagged up in their files and which had made Dean snort with his usual lack of tactfulness when he had opened the brown manila and seen the photos staring back.

"They look like extras from _revenge of the nerds_ or somethin'."

Stephanie had coughed and then lifted her brow, because she liked to pretend that the copper blonde never tickled her but for the most part largely failed at keeping her humor wrapped,

"Nothing so pleasant in this case unfortunately."

Seth had leaned back in his chair,

"What _is_ the case?"

"Human hunting."

"I'm sorry, did you say _hunting_?"

It had turned out pretty unhappily that she had because the basis of the case had been a number of missing people found buried in shallow plots having been shot and sort of _chewed_ and which looked to have happened in the backwoods of their county where the forests were thick and the hills were steep and remote.

"We figure that the victims involved were hunted because the pathology report found canine saliva in the bites and because two out of three of them weren't wearing any footwear but show wounds that imply they were running for their lives."

Dean had murmured in the background bitterly,

"Maybe not _revenge_ then, because this is straight up _deliverance_ shit."

It was a point on which the blonde had remained utterly unflinching on since he had then launched into a half hour retelling of the plot, which had by no means sold his baffled teammates on the movie but _had_ led them into a rough plan of sorts.

Because the three victims had been found by the highway that brushed the edge of the Dudley Family land, the spectacle wearing brethren were the most likely suspects, only their property was both vast and tangled with traps.

Dean had been supposed to waylay them in a bar one night and befriend them in his usual covert taskforce role and _would_ have too had it not been for the random local who had thrown so many beers back he had been looking to take someone on and who had then tried to punch Dean in the head from out of nowhere which had hurriedly forced Roman from the confines of their van.

Bubba Ray Dudley had been looking at him lopsidedly from his barstool as the powerhouse had backed the troublemaking local up, but never had he assumed that their killer would then _follow_ him.

Far less _kidnap_ and haul him off the street.

Damn.

Beneath his feet the terrain had shifted slightly from loose crunching rock fragments to soft and peaty piles of earth, which meant that his fast slapping footsteps seem quieter but made his frantic breathing more and more loud, to the point where he figured he might possibly hurl a lung up since men of his size or family background were not in any way shape or form meant to run. Roman wasn't really even sure he _was_ running but figured a breathless shamble was probably better than none.

Branches swiped past his face as he bust through them and his thoughts turned briefly to the other man in the cell, whom had been staring along the barrel of the same gun that he had and who had then been released at a similar time. He had even begged wildly for the two of them to stick together but the powerhouse had pushed him bodily,

"No, you run, I'll lead them away."

He had found out at some point in their long hours of captivity that his fellow kidnapped prey had been a family man, not to mention pathetically scrawny and who also had a pretty bad case of the terror shakes and who had frequently either bawled or then pleaded for his survival to some unspecified higher power.

The poor guy's name had been Michael Cole and Roman hoped fervently that he was still running and that his _own_ doubling backwards had taken the hounds off his track, since out of them the lawman was more likely to survive it –

Not that either of them knew what _it_ was.

Renewed barking spurred him on and he clenched his teeth together and then hissed to himself in frustrated tones,

"Come on."

Back when his teammates and long suffering brethren had been pouring over the shots of the Dudley Family farm, Roman had noticed a river snaking through it which he hoped his calculations were now leading him towards.

Dean had once told him in the same haphazard fashion in which he tended to impart the bulk of his facts, that the best way to outrun a pack of trained scent hounds was to swim in a river then haul out further along, or else to cut through extra thick foliage or follow a wild animal that the braying pack would then pick up and hopefully trail from that point onwards. Unfortunately though scrubland and thick foliage were pretty minimal and so too were other passing natural prey, but the river thing Roman figures he _could_ pull off properly so long as he found it.

Where the hell was the thing?

He blitzed hard through the trees and then almost fell into it as the lush lime colored trees suddenly stopped pretty dead and tapered off into the churning and rushing waters.

"Whoa – ,"

 _Bingo_.

Roman paused for a second but the sound of snapping branches and trees forced him to act since at likely any moment the hounds would be on him and holding him in place until their owners turned up. His brief five minute head start had probably all but faded so he _had_ to keep moving.

For Dean and for Seth.

Not to mention for his three precious, beautiful babies whom he loved stronger and harder than the rest of life itself and who he _never_ wanted to have to see his body laid in a coffin having been chewed over by a pack of slobbering hounds.

He skittered towards the torrent in a clumsy looking half slide, clinging to the bank and collecting clay beneath his nails but then forgetting all of that as he plunged into the water and sucked in a breath.

Holy _hell_ it was cold.

Despite the fact that he was not a natural runner his large bulk _was_ built for being in the surf and having spent many long summer family vacations on top of and _in_ the waves he felt more confident than most and so eased in himself before starting to wade through it and focusing his mind to keep from thinking about the chill. Dean had been telling him about something in the surveillance van two nights before that which he had barely listened to, but which he cast back to suddenly in the moment because he had to think of _something_ and his middle brother was nothing if not an interesting man.

"Hey uce, did you that if you folded a normal piece of paper forty eight times it would like, reach to the moon?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh, I thought I might kinda like to try it, but it turns out you can't fold a piece of paper in half more n' eight times."

Frankly it was only _one_ of the many titbits that his copper blonde and kooky brother had thrown out through their career and among which other priceless pieces of information was flamingos being pink because they ate pigmented shrimp.

Dean especially loved facts about nature and Roman would have skinned a live _moose_ to have had his brother there and wading through the water at his side chirping merrily and pointing out birds or bizarre cloud shapes in the sky. Seth would have probably been telling him to shut up and in response the copper blonde would have carried right on.

Roman frowned.

Were they nearby him?

He figured that they probably _had_ to be close, because they must have figured out that his behind had been kidnapped and pulled up the video feed from outside his apartment block, before calling in the cavalry and launching for the surveillance van in a typically frantic rush to rescue his ass.

He knew that was what likely path things had taken purely because he had been on that _side_ before, on the many occasions when their middle man was missing or had been snatched by a crazed psychopath or an organ thieving pack. Part of him though was thankful that it wasn't his brothers who were having to face the same fight that he was there and then.

He was the eldest –

He could weather the suffering and so set his face firmly and continued wading in, feeling the frigidly cold waters of the river rising further and further in up towards his waist, with his hands up like he was on a rollercoaster and try and save one part of his body from getting wet.

"Damn."

The barking from the treeline suddenly became louder as the pack evidently picked back up on his scent and then cut through the leaves making him try to wade faster and clenching his teeth as his thighs protested at the strain. Fording the river he scrambled out at a low inlet and then forced his frozen legs to clamber back up the bank hoping that maybe he had bought a few minutes and hoping beyond hope that his cellmate had managed the same.

Michael Cole however had been less _battle hardened_ and a whole lot less confident.

"Come on man, be okay."

Back when he had first blinked into his new surroundings after having been knocked out by the foul tasting cloth, it had been the far smaller man calling and bellowing that he had registered beyond the thought of how and where the hell he was.

His brows had furrowed over a thickly pounding headache,

"What the – ,"

Cole had blown a breath out,

"Oh _finally_ , I thought I was alone here or that maybe you were dead or something, especially when you've been lying there for not moving so much as a muscle for the last few hours."

Huh?

Roman had squinted and then slowly sat upright which had triggered a burst of nausea he had been forced to swallow back, since he had also been trying to work his spotting vision and take stock of precisely where the hell he was.

Bars had stared back at him but so thick and so closely welded that he had barely been able to put three of his fingers through. His cage had been possibly four foot by seven but the height of the thing reached into the sky or at least the top of the space they were housed in which had looked to be in a half lit barn.

Flashes of what had happened had come slowly thudding back to him like hammer blows that had banged into the centre of his brain.

Dudleys –

Hunting people like chattel –

Hands holding a wet piece of fabric over his nose –

For a second his big had heart flipped over in his stomach because his next full panic was that his brothers were there too, or had been snatched from the street in the same way that he had and were also lying somewhere unconscious in the room.

"Dean? Seth?"

Michael Cole had blinked back at him blankly in measures of bewilderment,

"Uh, there – there's nobody here but us."

Good.

Roman had figured that was probably a positive insomuch in that at least his teammates were safe and not hurt and could therefore focus in on the business of saving him, which he had known even in those first few seconds that they would.

Briefly he had tried to rattle at his prison cell but his head had still been spinning and he had forced himself to quit, partly because the bars were too thick to be shifted but mostly because he hadn't been keen to pass back out. Instead he had fallen into a sitting position and then leaned his broad back against the coarse and splintered wood.

"You have any clue where here _is_ exactly?"

Cole had shaken his head at him,

"No."

"How long have you been here?"

"Two nights in total, there were others when I woke up but they – they took them out."

Roman had set his face pretty starkly which had thankfully been lost in the slatted half-light, because it seemed pretty clear that his fellow hunting partner had no real clue what was lying in wait and all things considered that was probably a positive since the horrific full story would likely have tipped him over the edge. Even so though he had known that _something_ bad would happen to him because Cole had then leaned himself close to the bars and pushed his pale little face to the metal with big blinking orbs,

"I – I hear barking sometimes."

"They're hunting."

"Hunting what?"

Roman hadn't expanded, but the truth of the matter had become pretty clear when the bespectacled brothers had risen with the sunshine and then roused their tired captives by banging on bars in true cliche style with the butts of their rifles. Roman had woken the second the men had crossed the threshold because his long time policeman senses had been firing hard, but Michael Cole had startled and then launched back into wakefulness with a whimper which had made the hunting team smirk.

"Rise and shine boys,"

Roman had stared back hatefully to which Bubba Ray Dudley had then sort of chuckled in response and even though the light in the barn had been barely penetrable, his teeth had still been eerily bright,

"Gonna be having a lot of fun with _this_ one."

Roman had barely flinched,

"So how 'bout letting my friend here go?"

He had thrown his hand towards his panicky cellmate in the hopes that he could somehow spare him the full force of their fate but in response to it the paunchy hunter had simply kept on beaming and then shaken his head,

"Nah, I think we'll have you both."

Five minutes –

Five minutes had been the sum total of their headstart, like the warped killer brothers had thought it passed for being fair and which the lawman had begun by propelling Cole away from him and then bellowing for the smaller man to run and conceal himself.

"Keep low, I'll find you."

Roman had truly meant that, but in order to find him they _both_ had to stay alive and frankly the powerhouse was no longer sure that was an option since the barking behind him was moving ever more close. He could barely even bring himself to look over his shoulder in case the famished hounds were nipping at his heels or in case he could see the tips of the rifles beginning to poke a heartbreaking path through the trees.

Beyond him he could see the brush starting to thin a little as the hillside fell away into a patch of flattened scrub, which made his heart both soar and then spasm because it meant that he had managed to make it to the road. But it _also_ meant that he would have to brave the open where his becoming a moving target was practically assured.

He had no other choice though. He had to make the road.

He had to give Seth and Dean the chance to get there, because the sooner he found himself free of the compound the more likely he was to be able to get help, or possibly see them hurrying towards him bringing the cavalry like they one hundred percent would.

His brothers.

Damn.

His heart clenched on instinct because he wanted so fiercely to see the two men and to be back in their company where his ass was _supposed_ to be. It was a fact he knew increasingly with every last case and every time they went out for a beer or helped each other or were simply fundamental to basic happiness in life.

Roman was _not_ about to be the one that saw that broken –

No way and no how.

But then he tripped and fell,

"Fuck."

In the broad scheme of things he rarely cursed ever since his littler brothers both had that particular niche all tied up, but as his ankle fell clumsily into a rabbit hole and then twisted so hard and painfully he fell onto his front, the words billowed up and then seemed to blast out of him like a bubble of frustration. But at least it seemed to help.

Briefly.

Because then he instantly reverted to type to again.

"Damn it."

Pushing himself back up into a breathless half crouch, the powerhouse untangled his newly throbbing leg, which he knew without trying would struggle to hold his full weight since he was pretty much sure he had messed the muscle up. Not that he had any real choice in the matter since he needed to keep moving.

He _had_ to stay ahead.

Breaking foliage and snapping noises somewhere behind him made him look up and his heart fell a mile, because heading through trees with its nose pressed to the undergrowth was a black spittle covered canine trailing the scent he had left behind.

Roman was too late.

But then he blinked a little –

Maybe?

Because unless he was seeing things then there was only one hound dog and based on the clattering following on behind him and the frustrated string of curses there was likely only one man. Roman figured the hunters had split up on him in order to try and head their larger prey off or possibly to hunt out the weaker of their captives before teaming back up to hunt _him_ like a bull moose and in response he flattened himself low on his belly and then peered tired eyes through the flowers and loose scrub that was blooming in his way.

 _Down_.

Branches cracked noisily and then a face became clearer through the tangle of brush and the features of which made him blow a long breath out.

Hell yeah.

Spike Dudley who was the smallest and youngest of the brothers, was beginning to stumble his way from the woods and into the far more scanty cover of the scrubland where the forest fell off into the open expanse. His camouflaged clothing was covered head to toe in mud stains and heavy with wetness from having forded the river too, so maybe that was why the kid was on his own there?

His bulkier brothers hadn't wanted to make the swim.

Spike Dudley was little though –

Roman could take him and possibly even take the hunting rifle from his hands in a move that would totally pull the odds back in his favor provided he could force the snarling hound away.

But how?

Looking to his left like he hoped to find a chew toy or a piece of rawhide, he noticed a small sapling tree instead, whose branches were still new and carefully forming but were plenty thick enough and pretty perfectly long. Roman figured that it was better than nothing and so began to ease his bulk in a crawl across the earth, hauling his throbbing and pained ankle behind him while clenching his teeth to stop from cussing or crying out.

Beyond him he could hear the frantic paw pads of the canine as it blitzed a fast and purposeful path to where he was and so he braced himself and put his _operative hat_ on before standing up bodily and then hauling back a branch.

"You two boys looking for me now? Because I'm right here."

Spike blinked in response then fumbled for the rifle slung over one shoulder but the panic of which meant that the movement was slow, besides which the policeman barely paid the man much notice since he was pretty much solely focused in on the hound.

Crap.

It was a totally unflinching and brutal looking creature made of sinew and muscle in copper brown tones, which reminded him a little of Dean in a weird way, except _his_ brother was scruffy whereas the beast was well groomed. Rivers of spittle were cladding it's muzzle as it outstripped its owner and launched in for the kill, the force of which nearly made the lawman lose his metal. But no. Instead he merely sucked a deep breath in then fought that urge back again as the thing blistered in at him before murmuring in late tones that only he could hear,

"A little closer now, I just need you a little closer."

For a moment he was worried that he had waited too long, but released the branch as the killer canine launched forward and then watched with bated breath as the branch cracked whip-like back and then crashed into the teeth lined mouth and the slobber. Roman hadn't really known what to expect from it so therefore found the reaction far better than he had hoped, since not only was there a spray of bright blood from the muzzle but the thing let out a scream and then turned tail and skittered off.

Dean would have probably been none too happy with him –

 _Aww, come uce, it wasn't his fault._

But on the plus side the teeth were no longer busy snarling, in fact the hound seemed mildly frightened of him, but which he then had little enough time left to bask in since a thunderous round of shot nearly blew his head off.

 _Bang_.

Spike Dudley had evidently pulled loose his rifle and was trying his best to finish the hunt there and then, but had been thwarted by the fact he was still fuming about his animal and the hot blooded mist had screwed up his aim. His fingers were hastily fumbling at the weapon though as the small blonde man tried to load the thing again and knowing that he only had three or four seconds, the bulky taskforce operative began to lumber in.

Damn it though –

His ankle.

It hurt like a _mutha_ to the point where he was forced to _haul_ it over the terrain and which made his by no means naturally fast running both slow and pretty clumsy. But he powered through anyway before loosening off a yell which echoed off the forest and then bounced back at him and sounded pretty awesome if he was totally honest,

"Oooooh – ,"

He followed that up by launching himself bodily into the smaller man the moment he figured he was probably close enough and which he managed to time as the rifle was swinging upwards, looking to take a more life changing path.

His horizontal launch though took the both of them over and they landed in a heap on the pitted terrain.

" _Oof_."

" _Argh_ – ,"

Discomfort exploded up hard from his ankle as it twisted then got caught beneath the scrawny blonde man, who moved surprisingly fast all things considered since he then clambered back up to straddle the bigger chest, throwing wild blows at the pinned and pained operative who put his forearms up instinctively to help shelter his head and nose.

"You think you're a big man huh? You think you can beat me? You think you can outrun my older brothers?"

 _Huh_.

Spike seemed furious, or else mortally offended that the powerhouse was trying to fight for his life and refusing to beg or hold his hands up and surrender in the way that their previous victims probably had. But then again the men that the family had taken previously had been farmers and hikers _not_ battle hardened cops and so therefore the big man had the skills and the training to back up and make critical his considerable bulk.

Roman brought his a fist up –

Nothing too fancy because he figured the man on top of him would react to minimal force, but the blow still carried enough power to knock Spike backwards and then possibly batter loose a few brain cells as well based on his blinking and starstruck reaction which might even have been sort of pitiful in anybody else.

But Roman wasted no time expressing his platitudes. Which was mostly because time was simply something he didn't have.

Biting his lip to tame the bloom in his ankle he heaved himself up then crawled hastily towards the blonde, catching him in a chokehold and then sliding in behind him before the feisty pint sized hunter could remember where he was and locking the move in tight and decisive as frantic hands and nails began to scrabble and claw.

"Wha – no – ,"

"Sssh, let it happen brother."

In spite of the soothing the smaller man still tried to buck and battle his way ferociously out of the sleeper hold that was fast beginning to sap his limited strength.

Roman kept it cinched tight though, barely even flinching because it was a counter he had used more than a hundred times before and had been taught at the academy for the first time ten years back as the best way to tame suspects who were reluctant to be caught, or else who were not keen on being put in handcuffs.

It took barely twenty seconds.

Fifteen and a half if he was trying to be kind –

But eventually the scruffy blonde went heavy and limp against him at which point the lawman eased the body to the terrain before pressing two fingers to the neckline through habit and then nodding to himself at the familiar _boom-boom_.

Good.

Behind him the unhappy hound was still pacing and the sound of its low snarling made him seize the rifle up, finding the weapon in a tangle of knotweed a foot away where it had haphazardly been flung. Roman had to use it as a prop to stand back upright and then as a crutch to help brace his banged up limb but he managed to turn in a slowly hobble towards the highway which he could practically _hear_ the low rumble of tires on and the proximity to which was then brought home pretty beautifully by the big chain link fence that fell into view.

 _Thank god_.

He had made it.

He had actually reached the perimeter –

But so too had the remaining Dudley brothers and the larger pack of hounds who had been following his tracks and whose animalistic braying he could suddenly hear behind him like someone had turned the formerly muted volume up. It also fired a blast of cold horror clean through him because his ass was so close.

He was so _so_ close.

"Hold it right there you big fucking bastard."

Damn.

Roman froze up at the click of a rifle bolt and then shut his tired brown eyes very briefly because he knew he had failed. But would _not_ lose without a fight. He had too much and too many people to live for and so to that end he spun hopelessly and lifted his own rifle up.

 _No_.

No chance in hell.

Bubba chuckled back at him,

"Think you might be a little outnumbered here."

It was a point on which he was unhappily correct since not only were there the two remaining Dudleys stood in front of him, but there were possibly about eight or nine bristling hounds, who were practically trembling with the prospect of ripping into him but were holding themselves back until they heard the command.

Roman raised the rifle,

"Maybe, but I can still take out one of you, which I figure might make all this hurt a little less. So wanna let me know if you have a special preference? You, your brother there or how 'bout one of your pets?"

Bubba leered back at him looking borderline regretful,

"Gonna be a pleasure to kill you."

Oh man.

Roman felt his big chest flicker slightly in the knowledge that no matter what happened next he had basically failed and with it he also failed his kids and his teammates.

He clenched his teeth together.

 _I'm so sorry babes._

Beyond him the hunters lifted their rifles to take aim at him and in response to them he in turn narrowed his sights on the bigger man, since Bubba Ray Dudley seemed the lynchpin behind it so he figured that taking _him_ out would make things better in the end.

He expected the bullets to blast through him at any second –

He was therefore _not_ expecting the rust covered white van, which burst through the solid chain link fencing behind him with a heavy roar of engines like it was close to breaking down, but which triggered a hail of earth and loose pebbles and a dust cloud so thick that it startled them all and propelled itself in on them so far out of nowhere that for a second the hunting tableau could manage nothing but blank stares.

Huh?

"What in the _world_ – ,"

In the chaos Roman couldn't be certain which one of the Dudley boys had barked out the words, but in the moment the specifics barely seemed to much matter as the billowing clouds parted to reveal someone else, who burst out from the passenger side of the vehicle beneath an achingly familiar mop of copper blonde hair, holding not only his regular police issue firearm but something small, black and square in his palm,

Dean pulled a tiny hidden pin from the side of it and then all hell broke loose.

 _Weeow, weeow, weeow, weeow_ –

Ear splitting tones exploded through the atmosphere but so loudly that the screeching seemed to rattle their bones, like each screaming pulse was burrowing into their bodies and echoing through their skulls like a pneumatic drill until none of them could think straight.

Dean had triggered a rape alarm?

In response to it the hounds that had been salivating in front of him, backed up in confusion and then turned tail and ran, scattering back into the treeline with yowls and whimpers which were hardly _surprising_ based on how good their hearing was. Roman even felt a stab of sympathy for them –

Briefly.

Five seconds worth before it moved on.

Dean charged past him with his handgun raised upwards and he was flanked by another figure as their tech man backed him up and even though his ankle was throbbing like crazy and he had barely eaten or slept the powerhouse still bust loose a grin. Because his brothers were there.

His brothers –

His teammates –

His best friends had found him and it was a beautiful thing.

Bubba and D-Von had reacted to the screeching by instinctively clapping their hands to their ears and which was followed by the box being tossed roughly towards them and then landing by their feet in the meagre terrain. It meant the two remaining _non_ -targeted taskforce members could move in swiftly to take full control of things, which Seth took the reins of in his usual cadence that was caught between authoritative and extremely pissed off.

"Hands up both of you, move away from those rifles."

D-Von paused briefly but then complied with the bark by simultaneously bending down to lower his killing weapon while at the same time raising his fingers towards the sky.

Roman snorted.

It would never fail to rankle him how much mass killers often wanted to live and how they were happy to play with the lives of other people but by no means wanted the same fate for themselves.

Fortunately for all of them though the rape alarm began to taper and then finally subsided as the battery wore out and it restored an element of semi peaceful silence that briefly made the powerhouse consider whether or not he had turned deaf.

Luckily he hadn't –

Seth snapped a second time,

"Hey I said both of you put your hands up, not wise for you if I have to repeat myself."

His warning was tossed out towards Bubba Ray Dudley who had simply remained staring at the two lawmen with pure hate, but who crucially still had the rifle held tightly and pointed with purpose like he was considering an all guns blazing sort of thing.

D-Von hissed at him,

"Hey, come on, not like this man."

In response to him the bulky man rolled his narrowed eyes but then slowly began to sink low towards the scrubland like he was copying his brother in complying to the command. But he then turned it into a full scale fake out as he fell to one knee and then tried to take aim, in a blast that would have landed in the copper blonde middle and killed their undercover man.

Roman barked sharply,

" _Dean_."

But his crazy middle brother was already moving in a furious and passionate headlong run, the grand finale of which was launching at the hunter and sending him onto his back with the crazy operative on top. Dean worked his fists in a blitz of pent up tension so that they practically _windmilled_ in a fast moving blur and which he also accompanied with a noise of pure aggression which was a long raspy note that he blew out and then held,

"Aaarrrggghhh – ,"

It was something that he only ever let loose when he was pent up or else in the throes of true murderous rage and in response to it the burly hunter stranded turtle like beneath him merely lifted his hands and bellowed,

"Get him off, get him off damn it, he's a psychopath."

Seth who had been busy cuffing the taller of the hunters to a part of the chain link fence that had somehow remained intact, turned and trampled a hurried path through the foliage before pulling his brother back and soothingly patting at his chest,

"Whoa, easy now, take it easy okay man?"

Dean shrugged off the hold but stumbled up onto his feet again before turning to reluctantly let their tech man take charge, since he clearly had other things that he needed to accomplish and which he then made pretty clear by swiftly marching in close. Roman responded by putting his arms out but not even he was prepared for the hit as his middle brother knocked headfirst into him so forcefully that it nearly propelled the both of them back.

" _Fuck_ ,"

Dean breathed the word from the folds of the mud stained shirt front that he was halfway buried into but in no way seemed to mind.

Roman blew a fond huff into the birds nest,

"I'm okay uce."

"Nearly fuckin' _weren't_ though."

"Yeah but you two saved my sorry behind like I knew you would."

Dean snorted roughly,

"You screw your ankle up?"

"Rabbit hole."

Roman chuckled and then held his broad hands up in a cheery little movement like he had no idea how and it succeeded in making the copper blonde roll his blue eyes and then bite back a relieved but admonishing little grin.

"I told you last week man, the biggest rabbit tunnels can have two thousand entrances or more, you have to watch out for those suckers."

Roman smiled back at him –

 _Animal facts._

"Duly noted babe, next time I'll be more careful when I'm running for my life."

Dean let out a huff but then hunkered in beneath his shoulder blade to let the bigger man lean on him a bit and then together they turned back towards their surveillance van in a slow and steady but unmistakable limp. Behind them Seth was cuffing Bubba to the fencing and then heading through the scrub for the prone form of Spike and knowing that all of the hunters were captured eased the heavy pounding in Roman's still seizing heart.

Halfway to the van the powerhouse stopped suddenly,

"Damn,"

Dean blinked,

"What?"

"We need to find Cole."

"The feller you were trapped with?"

Roman paused for a second and then let his brown eyes flicker over the beaming face, because in theory there was no way his copper blonde brother could know that part of things when he hadn't told them yet.

"How in the – ,"

Dean beamed,

"Yeah we're _kind of_ ahead of you on that one, picked him up terrified an' runnin' along the road."

Huh?

Picked who up?

Roman was frowning pretty damn heavily by the time they reached the flank of their loyal surveillance van, but stood and watched silently as his brother flung the door wide and at which point a thin but familiar looking face emerged, only painted nearly lime and looking wildly nauseous from what had obviously been a hugely fast and bumpy ride.

Michael Cole blew a breath out,

"Roman, thank heavens, I thought that – ,"

But the rest of the sentence was then lost as the smaller man suddenly bolted from the vehicle and proceeded to hack up the contents of his guts, which neither of the lawman could really much blame him for but neither were about to offer to clean up.

Behind them in the background the sound of police sirens began echoing and in response to them Seth clapped his hands together as he strolled up, having corralled and cuffed the last of the hunters and looking concerned,

"Hey man you alright? Looks like you twisted your ankle pretty badly, probably should have that looked at you know."

Roman smiled in response,

"Nah, I'm good man."

But frankly he was even _better_ than that because his heart felt like it was about to burst on him and the thankfulness he felt made him need to _do_ things, like phone his children and tell them how much he loved them and appreciate the cool breeze and being alive. But more than that it made him want to share it with his teammates and so he put out his hands and tousled them both, before pulling them in roughly for a tight three man bear hug and then rumbling a few words loose,

"Love you brothers, remember that."

Neither man spoke in response to the statement but the bigger man knew that his sentiments were returned when their holds tightened fast like they were worried about losing him and both of his best friends hugged him right back.

* * *

 **I'm not crying, you're crying. But seriously, reading that one back after the last week was tough.**

 **Okay, next week then, I give in to calls for some real Dean whump and so that is what we have, shameless Dean in peril stuff. Hope to see you there!**


	24. The Trade

**Right, so here we come with the unadulterated Dean whump. I'm not even sorry! This is for everyone who wanted to see this the last time I was taking requests. Poor Dean…**

 **Minnie1015, So I know it might take you a little while to read this (understandably) but when you do I hope it comes as a welcome break from changing diapers and warming up bottles etc. Well done mama!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Awe thanks and big love in return.**

 **Cheryl24, Yeah, as much as I would love to take credit for coming up with human hunting idea, I'm pretty sure it's been done in a million hillbilly movies, books and several TV shows from the 70s/80s. But hey, what can I say?! If nothing else then hopefully I made it my own because I'm pretty sure the Dudleyz weren't in any of those other ones!**

 **Mandy, Yeah, you could see Dean really holding it together for them all and especially when he gave Seth a little head ruffle like 'I got you buddy.' My poor boys. Still, at least I get to keep the brother vibes going here. This is another shameless 'the boys love each other' chapter. But those are what make my inner writer tick. Hope this one gives you a bit of a break from real life for a bit. How are you doing?**

 **Derick Lindsey, Michael Cole was in there purely because I wanted someone slightly jittery to be thrown in with Roman. I imagine Cole would not take to being kidnapped by murderers all that well! So, we didn't get our Dean explanation last week, but I think Seth running his mouth was kind of a clue as to what might be bothering him! Hopefully we can have a Dean promo this week!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Don't you worry, Bo will definitely be back! Yeah, the timing of last week's chapter was very poignant. I always post them up in the order I wrote them so it just so happened to be a super brotherly Roman type one. The big dog being cool in a crisis was an image too good to pass up. Seth would be antsy, Dean gets all sweary, but I could totally imagine Roman keeping his cool even though he isn't as fast or stealthy as the others. Bless his bulky heart.**

 **Skovko, No, I've never heard of The Surviving Game. Maybe I'll have to go check it out (although not if it does the idea of people being hunted better than I do, lol!) I think maybe Dean's habit for finding trouble has finally rubbed off on Roman. Possibly by mere association? Either way, you'll be glad to know that in this chapter Dean has totally reclaimed his mantle and is back in mortal peril. Old habits etc. etc.!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, I love writing Roman, in all of my stories, because I feel like he is just constantly calm, loving and protective. Plus he works as such a good foil to Dean's drama-ing and Seth being all pissy! Don't worry, I love Seth but I'm all about the Roman/Dean friendship, so let's drink to the Big Dog being back on our screens soon hopefully and brothering it up with his lunatic again. Ooh, supernatural is great!**

 **Cherry619, Haha, well what can I say? Can't resist sneaking in some Dean peril too, even on a Roman chapter! But this chapter is all about the Dean peril, no sneaking anything in on this one, it's very much in your face! Agreed, the bond of the Shield boys is amazing. I love good, honestly and super deep male friendships, they make for such good story potential and no one is better at that than our boys. No one!**

 **Dean in danger in 3...2...1...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: The Trade**

Dean had been suspended from a beam high in the ceiling which was impossible to see from the way he was stood but was clear from the way that his body was hanging and the way that his hands had been tied over his head. In twisting them a little he could feel the binds bite into him as his wrists tried their level best to keep him held up, being that his legs were still kind of shaky from having received the fierce blow to the head. Or what _figured_ had been a head knock anyway but couldn't much remember because –

Head knock.

Oh right.

Besides which there was a sticky feeling lancing low through his brow line which then hurt like a bitch when he tried to move his eyes and so was probably a cut or laceration of some sort which potentially needed stitches.

Fuck.

He hoped he still had his boyish looks.

Flicking blue eyes over the space he was trapped in promptly sent his neck into spasms of pain, since he figured he had probably been unconscious and slumped forward for several heavy hours or possibly longer than that. Eventually though his brain had brought him screaming back into reality like the least lowkey early morning wake up in the world, but which may not have been either early _or_ the morning because the warehouse was so shuttered there was no natural light. Honestly he could have been on a brand new _solar system_ and been none the wiser about having left Earth except for the fact that he would likely have been floating –

Floating or freezing.

He would have probably noticed that.

He had once watched a programme about how outer space changed the human body and could remember that bone thickness took a hit in the beyond and so that therefore made it seem far less likely that he was orbiting since he was hanging from his wrists by his ligaments and bones.

Pity though –

Kinda.

He had always liked the cosmos because he liked things that felt somehow bigger than himself and reminded him his life and the things that happened in it were minimal when compared to the planets and the stars. Not that those thoughts much helped him weather the pain though which was beginning to billow up through his poor half numbed hands and which he figured was probably the complete lack of blood flow and the fact that his fingers were snarled up and curled.

Biting his lip hard to stop himself screaming which in his case would have been raspy but still a pretty brutal sound, he planted his heavy feeling feet to the concrete and then tried to make them physically hold his body weight up and which he managed with no small amount of loud cuss words that filtered out mumbled through the tight clench of his teeth,

"Fuck, motherfucker, holy mother of – ,"

"Language."

Dean looked up sharply through his fuzzy blue peepers which then honed in through the long shadows of the warehouse based because naturally it was a warehouse.

Just fucking _naturally_.

In the near two year period that he had been back on the taskforce he had been kidnapped and held hostage a whole _bunch_ of times, to the point where had had practically come to except specific features like the empty forgotten building and the boarded up light, not to mention the fine film of filth on the flooring and the fact that there was never passing traffic around, which had happened to him enough times that he had started to wonder precisely how many old industrial plants and units there _were_ in town.

Vince really needed to look into that more closely because some sprucing up on that front would have _totally_ been his friend.

Dean blinked suddenly,

Huh?

Kidnapper –

Right in front of him.

He _had_ to have taken a blow to the head and even though he could remember precisely none of it happening, he knew the man before him had thrown the seismic hit and so looked up through the thick mottled shadows of the building and into the pale but very proudly smirking eyes.

For the most part whenever he was shanghaied by someone he knew in a heartbeat exactly who they were, but which was so _not_ the case when it came to the beaming figure that it actually threw his brainstem for kind of a loop and hustled away the shock and the bravado and the fast flashing tongue that he liked to bring loose, since his scrambled up head was far too busy trying to focus and rattle through his memory banks like something might click.

Nope.

He was a stranger –

Dressed in a pale pant suit with a full Stetson hat and a cigar clamped between his teeth, like they were inspecting a freaking head of longhorn cattle somewhere or heading to a neighbors ranch to put a barn up. Narrowed brown eyes blinked back at him slowly beneath the few strands of hair not tucked back beneath the hat which had probably once been a heavy toned color but were slowly becoming speckled by the steady creep of years.

Despite his maturity though the man was pretty hefty and likely even stood some inches taller than Dean, but the full fact of which was hampered by his position, slumped and hang like a turkey from the overhead beam and held up on buckling and concussion sapped femurs that had borrowed from his height to try and keep him on his toes.

His kidnapper chuckled,

"Glad to see you awake son, for a moment there I thought I might 'a hit you too hard. Must be a real thick old head you have up there."

 _Whoa_.

His teeth were as white as the sun, or maybe even worse since they shone up through the shadows like the man had turned a dental locator beacon on or else was trying to keep a passing fishing trawler from steering itself clean onto some rocks. His tone was lazy but thick with a cadence which put his birthplace somewhere in the Lone Star State but which managed to baffle his captive even further because who in the hell was he and what was the point?

Dean snorted back at him hotly,

"What is this, the freakin' _compliment_ hour?"

"I can't say somethin' nice?"

"How 'bout you say somethin' nice while you untie me?"

He twisted the bonds as he tried to make his point before hissing and hastily wishing he hadn't as the twine then cut further into his bloodied up wrists and made it feel like he was losing skin layers to the point that he wondered if the bone was exposed. His kidnapper laughed and then threw his hands out like the answer was obvious,

"That ain't how it works."

"Okay then my turn to say somethin' nice here – ,"

"Absolutely."

"You're a motherfuckin' son of a bitch."

"Now how is _that_ nice?"

"You should 'a heard the other choices, trust me man, that was me bein' polite."

Dean was trying his best to sound ballsy but even _he_ knew he was failing pretty hard since his feet were shuffling and struggling to hold him and his face was screwed up with the pain of being hung and the effects of which were lancing throughout his body until there was literally no part of him that _wasn't_ crying out, or being pulled into a throbbing position or wrenching or twisting or else holding unnatural weight.

He wanted out and he wanted his brothers who would have known that he was missing and be looking for him right?

Hell yeah –

 _For sure_.

His brothers would be looking and they would find him too like always, cut him loose and take him home, where his first order of business would be to take a long bubble bath which he usually hated because he was a freaking _man_ but which he felt like his muscles would thank him for having and particularly if he used those bath salts someone had bought his girl.

Not that he knew where the freaking things _were_ of course –

Bottom bathroom cupboard beneath the hand towels.

 _Shut up head_.

"Bath salts?"

His debonair kidnapper was looking at him funny and a cold bolt shivered through him because he had been babbling out loud. Damn. He tried to brush it off with a bubble of fury,

"What the hell is this man?"

" _Finally_ he's askin'."

In response the beaming kidnapper snapped loud fingers in his face which startled him and then made the copper blonde flinch backwards which tweaked his poor trapezium and made him blow out a little hiss but then fast tapered off as a hand moved out towards him like it was looking for a shake or the completion of some pact,

"John Bradshaw Layfield,"

"The fuck – ,"

"I figure you might have heard of me since I'm a pretty big name, or I _used_ to be in these parts."

"Nope."

Bradshaw blinked back at him with the beam still on his features but there was something in his look that had not taken the snubbing well and it leant his thick tones a little edge of extra harshness as they barked out loudly and then echoed throughout the room.

"Really?"

"Sorry man."

"That puffed up bastard never mentioned me?"

Dean lifted his head pretty rapidly at that. then fought back the need to scream in hot agony since the sentence had provided him the biggest clue he had and beyond that had pulled a new face into the madness since there was only one _puffed up bastard_ in his limited contacts book and only one man who triggered such responses,

"You mean Vince?"

Bradshaw laughed but it wasn't a kind sound and tailed off pretty rapidly,

"Vincent Kennedy McMahon."

 _Perfect_.

He had been knocked out and hung up like a prize winning ham hock by a man bearing an elephant sized beef with the boss but who frankly could have probably taken a number since the head of their city had no time for being _liked_. In fact Vince seemed to physically feed off the censure because to his mind it meant he was fulfilling his role and which had worked out well so therefore who was he to mock it?

 _Oh yeah_.

He was the man having to bear the painful brunt.

Dean twisted hard in his bonds,

"Look, cut me loose man because whatever this thing is I'm not involved in the – ,"

"Farooq."

Dean blinked back at him for a startled second,

"Gesundheit?"

For the past few weeks the local news had been loaded with influenza horror stories and winter pandemic themes and how people needed shots and to wash their hands and all that crap but which Seth had responded to like an order from on high, in spite of his having the immune system of a Mac truck thanks to all the lurid homemade spinach things he made and then poured into bottles to stink up their workspace up. But then in his defence the tech man very rarely got sick.

Dean would maybe even have to try one of the health shakes some time on the proviso that he made it out of his latest kidnapping alive.

Bradshaw snarled at him,

"Farooq is my partner, who _your_ precious mayor had tossed into a cell."

"Meanin' he was a criminal."

Because that _had_ to be the reason since to his knowledge the long-time mayor was not supreme ruler of the realm and so therefore had no power when it came to imprisonment and couldn't lock up people on some crazy half-baked whim or because they had bumped into him in line at the market or because they had been the wearing the same type of tweed suit as him.

Nope. Farooq was likely the same as any other villain who had been tried by the courts and provided with a cell and a fully inclusive one star stay in the penitentiary and who had probably earned it.

"You watch your mouth son,"

"Hey – ,"

Dean flinched in a measure of pure horror as his kidnapper came stamping in from out of the blue, before taking a hand and laying it clean over his windpipe with such intent and focus that the air briefly cut off. It turned the bigger man from the beaming fool he had been to the unfeeling fucker who had struck him in the head then hauled him off and strung him up from the rafters. He probably thought little of strangling a man.

Dean wheezed,

"Fuck I – I fuckin' take it back okay?"

"Farooq took the blame for me, do you understand?"

"Uh huh – ,"

"Understand?"

Dean nodded back,

"Farooq took the blame, sure, consider me like, fuckin' all caught up man."

For a horrible second nothing much happened, but then the pulsating fingers slipped away from his throat and fell to clench at the sides of the kidnapper who spun sharply on his heel and then trudged muttering off, leaving his tones to bounce bark loudly and pierce the thick blackness,

"I'll show that old fool – ,"

In the break in proceedings Dean felt himself slump forward to lower his forehead into the crook where his elbow was, then wondered what the fuck was taking his brothers since he wasn't too sure what the madman had planned _or_ how in the hell it would punish their mayor by taking out the long pent up frustration on _him._

How had he even been kidnapped in the first place?

Dean shut his eyes and then tried to think back on it but could remember very little beyond leaving their warehouse base and then turning onto the street out in front of his apartment building.

Then nothing..

Following that was nothing but black, which tapered at the point that he had opened his bleary blues up and found that he had been fucking _suspended_ from a beam, with a sperm whale sized headache and a body hot with agony.

He had to bust loose.

He had to make a break for it –

Preferably before his captor came lumbering back and so hauling a breath in he clamped his bottom lip tight then braced himself a little before pulling back hard, in the hopes that he could find a tiny chink in the bondage but which very nearly popped his fucking wrist bones out instead and possibly even his neck and his shoulders based on the pain and sheer ferocity of the burn,

"Come _on_ – ,"

"Try that all you like boy but I know my rope work."

"Fifty shades fan huh?"

"Smart mouth you have there, I might have to shut it."

"I might have to stop you."

"I sure would love to see you try that son."

Bradshaw had morphed back out of the blackness like a spectre or likely _would_ have had it not been for the hat and teeth, which floated towards him like bizarrely shaped fireflies before revealing the lanky kidnapper in his full southern physique. He was holding something long and sort of thin looking clenched in one hand which the copper blonde peered at but could _not_ figure out until the little construction was set up in front of him and the final piece locked in.

It was a tripod and camera.

Bad –

Hugely bad.

Because when added together the two things hardly ever had happy results or at least not when they were specifically positioned so that the lens shone fully on a man hanging from a rope and whose tiptoes were raking the concrete only barely as he stumbled and fought his concussion nausea back.

 _Bleurgh_.

Dean swallowed a lump,

"Are we makin' a movie because if we're still on the _fifty shades_ thing then consider me out man."

Bradshaw snorted –

"Ha,"

But otherwise stayed silent as he tried to work the handheld machine and which emphasized his age bracket better than the hair thing had since his kidnapper was fumbling and cussing up a storm, which probably would have been borderline funny had he not been left behind him freaking _strung_ from the roof and waiting for whatever the hell was going to happen once he managed to make the little thing work.

Dean shut his eyes.

 _Please break, please break, please break –_

But the universe was patently not on his side because the next thing he knew there was a bark from the taller man that echoed out from beneath the big wide Stetson brim and then bobbed to reveal a little pinprick of brightness that sailed through the space like an electronic barb and painted a tiny red blob on his white shirt front that send a cold wash through him.

Bradshaw had turned the thing on and not only that but was fully recording which meant that whatever was primed to happen was about to hit the fan.

Dean clenched his teeth.

He needed his brothers but what if they had no clue where the hell he was or thought he was simply burrowed tight in his blanket and blowing off their calls because he was out for the count or headfirst in some spurious documentary marathon to do with nature or the many crazy things that had been plucked from the human butt?

"Right,"

Bradshaw clapped his big broad hands together briskly and then stepped into the frame which then thereby blocked Dean off since obviously the sight of him hanging helpless in the background was building to be the climactic finale reveal.

Dean hauled a breath in,

"Listen man, let's talk about this – ,"

But then the red light blinked like it was counting them in before blazing on back at them even and balanced. It spurred the lanky kidnapper suddenly back to life since he barked out the beginning of some practised preamble which was lazily floated out like he had filmed ransoms before or else like he had spent time hosting prime time TV quiz shows, which if he _hadn't_ then he should have probably looked into taking up.

"Mayor McMahon – ,"

Fuck.

Yep, it was happening.

"Remember this face from way back when? I figure maybe not since you never told your taskforce so let me remind you about how the two of us met and _then_ I'll tell you what I want from you old man."

Dean clenched his teeth and then pulled at the ropes again –

Had they loosened at all since he last tried?

Not really.

But he wrenched back regardless and threw his weight into it with such total force that it made him blow out a puff and then a murmur a wheeze and bark of exertion as he leaned back and looked up to where the high rafter was before wondering and frankly not for the first time how his kidnapper had made it up there to tie the thing off.

Blood began to snake thinly along his forearm where his wrists had bust and he cursed.

 _Fuck, shit, fuck._

Bradshaw continued,

"See kinda a long time back I used to run my own little business in these parts, we were called the Acolyte Protection Agency and we were pretty good too, damn good in fact, well, right up until the morning we were taking payment for our clients there was a mishap you might call it and a man was shot – ,"

Dean paused briefly from where he was pulling on his bindings and then frowned towards his kidnapper with a foggy blink.

Huh?

Based on the content of the rest of the ramble he had been captured by a lunatic or else a fucking _murderer_ and the gap between those seemed pretty important and made him pull even harder at his ropes since first he needed to somehow bust his way out of them. But also partly because he was thinking of Vince and the sense of infuriation with which the mayor might view him for putting himself in the middle of blackmail shit. Because it _had_ to be a last chance blackmail thing.

It _had_ to be.

Bradshaw threw his hands up,

"But that was where it went wrong because even though I was the one that pulled that trigger, it was my loyal business partner who chose to take the rap because I had charges to my name already see and we figured that the law would be easy on him – ,"

Dean blinked.

Farooq.

Business partner and occasional messiah based on the evidence.

"He was only supposed to have five years but then _you_ put a hand in trying to _clean up the city_ and they threw the book at him and made it thirty instead – thirty years for somethin' he's not at fault for and which because he's a true friend he sat through over _half_ of before findin' out that cough he'd been battlin' for the last twelve months isn't no cough but a tumor he can't survive – ,"

Fuck.

Bradshaw broke off to briefly corral back his feelings and in the silence Dean realized that he had at some point stopped his fight and had instead fallen still to listen to the monologue and what in the hell his kidnap was all about. It had turned out to be far more personal and fractious and therefore potentially _fatal_ than he had ever even thought.

Bradshaw was a man who had little left to care about which meant he was unpredictable.

He had nothing left to lose.

Dean on the other hand had plenty to live for and so rapidly returned to his pulling at the bonds, which the kidnapper seemed to finally clue into since Dean then saw the Stetson hat twist before being followed up by a weird sort of chuckle which was far from reassuring.

Uh oh.

Bradshaw let out a bark,

"But now I figure you must kinda be wonderin' what in the hell this is ramblin' is all about so allow me to introduce you to my helper for this evenin' who I believe you know well – ,"

Dean shut his eyes.

Crap.

But sure enough when he blinked up into the little camera light it was to find the beam focussed fully on him, with the kidnapper stood off to one side holding a hand out like he was showing the lucky winners their fabulous prize and which the undercover man took like a blow to the midriff since he knew the reveal meant he had totally failed and that the mayor and the commissioner and his _brothers_ would end up seeing it since he figured that was where the broadcast was being sent. In his head he even heard the twill suited man bellowing and then slamming up a curled fist onto the desktop,

"Damn."

Bradshaw moved in stealthily behind him and then there was clicking noise that made the captive flinch. It was following pretty swiftly by a familiar sort of hissing and the unmistakable sound of fingers opening a beer can.

Huh?

Lips smacked behind him like the nourishment was healing,

"So here's the way I see this thing happenin' mister mayor because first of all your boy and I will keep on havin' ourselves some fun and while we have us a real boys' party _you_ will make sure that Ron Simmons is let loose and that a car is waitin' to take the both of us outta here fully fuelled up and ready to leave. Then once you've fixed _that_ I'll tell you where your man is which I figure is fair."

Dean hauled in a breath,

He needed to stop or to slow what was happening but was limited in the options he theoretically had and so therefore fell back on his most natural instinct.

His freaking _superpower_ –

Because he could bullshit with the best.

He let out a snort,

"Wait is _that_ what this crap is? Because I'm 'a level with you man, you have this _so_ wrong, like you think that the mayor of the whole freakin' city cares about some nothing no good _beat_ cop like me?"

Bradshaw shook his head,

"Now I _know_ you're more 'n that to him – ,"

"Look at me here man, you really think _I'm_ a mayor's buddy?"

"What?"

In response to the statement the kidnapper pulled his brows in and then bent to look a little more closely at his threads which even for the copper blonde walking fashion faux pas were massively kitsch and outmoded to say the least since they comprised a pair of denims with large tears over the kneecaps which were purely from overuse and not manufactured in. But then even they looked passable in comparison to his shirt front which was emblazoned with the words _ask about my ninja_ which frankly he was thankful that his kidnapper had not since the _ninja_ was a white mask on the inside of the fabric that could only be shown by pulling the hem over his head in the kind of prank not even teenagers found funny but which he still thought made it the best shirt in the world.

Had he even brushed his hair in the previous three or four months?

Maybe?

Uh –

Okay probably not.

Basically then he looked much like he was homeless but which he hoped would help to further his point and convince the big southerner that the man stood before him was in no way hobnobbing with the most important man in town.

Dean pressed further,

"Besides, even if he knew me you really think he would trade prisoners because somebody asked? Like, m' pretty fuckin' sure there are papers an' shit to fill out an' the mayor of the city is kinda a busy man y' know? So honestly this plan of yours is totally commendable but it won't fuckin' work man because there's too many holes."

Plus his brothers.

Because his brothers _were_ coming and no mistaking that.

Bradshaw paused then blinked back and for a second he looked like a child at a party who had managed to burst their brand new balloon, but it faded pretty rapidly as the southerner coughed roughly and turned his head in heavy scepticism.

Damn.

"Nice try son but I'm not remotely buyin' it so here, how about you have a beer on the house,"

"Have a – ,"

 _Fuck_.

Dean let out a hiss of consternation as the contents of the can that his kidnapper had bust open was promptly upended over the top of his head, so that the sticky brown liquid and brown suds flooded over him in a torrent of fizzing which streaked through his hair and over his face into his eyeballs until he barked and was forced to shake his newly sodden head.

"Son of a bitch."

"Refreshing wouldn't you say son?"

Dean could feel the beer starting to trickle past his neck and beneath the folds of his awesome hidden ninja shirt until his skin felt cold and prickly and wet but which fired him with purpose and a bolt of pure hot murder which he threw into the camera,

"Don't let this asshole have a thing."

 _Bang._

Dean heard but couldn't see the beer can smash into his forehead and bury itself into the same exact point above his eye where whatever his kidnapper had hit him with earlier had split his brow open and therefore bust it a second time.

His head snapped back as the metal crunched into him and the move was accompanied by a wave of hot pain which exploded through his skull like a missile or a bomb blast but was _so_ fucking intense that his brain stopped thinking straight and threw him instead to a world of fuzzy vision and bewilderment and hurt and the heavy pull of sleep. He rocked his face back into the crook of his lifted elbow and then stayed there.

Beer suds trickled over his cheek –

Beer suds?

How were they there and where had they come from?

Dean furrowed his brows in which pulled on the cut but in the fast rising befuddlement he had forgotten that part of things and honestly most of everything beyond one important point which he mumbled into his elbow crease wearily,

"Need my brothers now – ,"

Blackness and nothingness then swallowed him and he sank below the waves of it, out like a light but free at last from the pulling on his shoulders and the burning of his limbs.

He couldn't remember why that was.

He came to slowly an unknown timespan later, not especially aware that he had been out at all but knowing at least that something had happened because his poor confused body seemed to hurt _everywhere_ , from the throbbing in his wrists like his heart had been put up there to the frozen biting chill that was eating his fingers whole and particularly the heat over his trapezium and rhomboids not to mention in the lower most curve of his spine.

He screwed his up face then blew a moan of pain out,

"Mmph – ,"

But the noise became trapped and then stuck so it billowed instead into the pouches of his cheek bones since his lips were not moving and had been clamped tight shut.

His heart pounded hard –

Huh?

But when he tried to pull his mouth loose there was a rustle and the tweak of a super sticky piece of tape which he registered slowly through the buzz of confusion and then understood inherently because someone had shut him up and made sure he couldn't call out or cause any trouble.

But who?

Flashes returned to him.

Dazzling teeth and wide brimmed Stetsons more specifically, not to mention a heavy twang expounding loudly over them all and a tripod and handheld camera beyond it with a red recording light.

Oh.

Freaking Bradshaw.

Yep, Dean remembered.

Dean remembered all too well.

He let out a snort and then tried to swear about it but the noise was instead swallowed up by the tape and so therefore ended up blowing out from his nostrils in a mumble that made him sound like an unhappy truffle hog.

Fuck.

He blinked and then tried to lift his head from his forearm where it had seemingly been pillowed pretty happily the whole time, but the movement of which was both troublesome and sticky since the upended beer had basically bonded them as one.

It was possible that he left an entire layer of his forehead in prizing the two components back into their separate spheres but lifting his head let him look up into the warehouse which seemed even more black than it had done before.

Maybe it was night?

Maybe it was the apocalypse and he had somehow missed it and was the only one left?

Bradshaw was absent as far as he could made out, since neither the blazing teeth nor the hat was radiating light and so the copper blonde figured that maybe he was sleeping or had stepped off for food which made his own stomach clench and then roll with an unexpected wave of concussion nausea that he fought back hard since his mouth was still taped up and he frankly had no clue where the hurl would end up going if not through his lips.

Probably best not to think.

 _Bleurgh_.

Nope not happening.

He had enough to contend with without spewing a fountain through his earlobes as well.

Ick.

Luckily the camera and tripod were missing which he hoped meant that there would be no more blackmail repeats, but which made him think back to the earlier recording and the mandate that had been thrown towards their erstwhile mayor.

Vince –

By no means a man who was keen on being blackmailed and particularly not into letting a tried prisoner loose and so who therefore would in no way have followed through on the instructions because their cranky old man was not a pushover in the least and nor was the health and wellbeing of one policeman likely to change that, or fucking _should_ have. None of them were in the business of handing free reign to criminals and he understood and believed pretty fiercely in that.

Besides it was only _him_.

No point in trashing the system for a copper blonde undercover man who had no clue when to shut up or how not to push the buttons of kidnappers brandishing beer cans and liable to explode when pushed too hard.

Damn.

Evidently he was still stuck waiting for his brothers.

But they would be there –

He knew that much.

They would.

Feeling his head spin and then lurch pretty violently he blinked into the blackness before passing back out or maybe not but as his blue orbs looked up into the warehouse it seemed like the lack of brightness or _something_ had changed and so he narrowed his spotting vision and honed in on a figure or a shadow or else a monster that was moving in the room.

Bradshaw?

His heart turned over and he mumbled which blew out as a snort behind the strip of sticky tape, because he honestly wasn't sure that his pain riddled body could cope with more talking or recording or upturned beer.

His moan echoed loudly,

"Dean?"

He blinked in confusion as the moving shape beyond him barked his name in worried tones and then turned into _two_ shapes moving in rapidly, one of which chose to suddenly flip the lights back on. Halogens burst into brightness up beyond him in banks of luminescence that fell out over his head but threw up and scrambled his sensitive feeling senses that had been stretched out and tortured and evidently _blinded_.

Fuck.

He squeezed his eyes shut in consternation and mumbled which the two men before him took to be a hitch of pain or else the beginnings of an emotional breakdown since they streamed in at once in their familiar black vests with the smaller of the men crossing the concrete more rapidly and reaching him first with worried brown eyes.

"Easy man, easy we gotcha."

Seth?

Dean tried to say it audibly but once more forgot about the silencing sticky tape which turned it incoherent but which his brother knew regardless since he reached for the corner with black leather clad hands,

"Yeah man we're here and we're gonna cut you loose alright?"

Dean nodded back slowly –

Uh huh.

But like, _really_ fucking slowly since his head felt like it was made of freaking lead and he was worried that if he let it fall forwards it would have to stay there forever or would potentially break his neck. Broad hands fell onto his hip bones to steady him and then a voice rumbled low like honey into his ear,

"Babe?"

Roman.

Dean tried a second time to mutter the name out and in response to him mumbling their tech man plucked at the tape and then slowly began to peel the length backwards which caused both a hitch then a painful eyes closed wince, because while in the real world the levels of hurt were minor, he was so fucking body sore that even _blinking_ seemed to hurt which made the sensation of his skin being stretched out and possibly ripped a little seem worse and fucking worse. He wanted so much to be tucked up and comfortable that he would have sold his soul for it.

Seth muttered back,

"I know it hurts, I'm sorry man but I have to take this goddamn stuff off you, only a tiny little piece left."

On the plus side however the peeling back manoeuvre finally released his bruised and throbbing lips, which Dean parted at once and then used to suck air in which felt beautiful even though the room was musty and stale.

"Fuck – ,"

"You okay?"

Dean nodded and then straight up mumbled since nothing worked well,

"Tha's – tha's good."

Pulling the rest of the silver tape loose from him, his brother balled the thing up and then tossed it to one side before reaching into one of his many pants pockets and whipping out his trusty and much used swiss army knife.

"Hold still man,"

He reached up onto his tiptoes and then began to saw through the main length of the rope and which Dean couldn't help but imagine him climbing to the top of the beam with the knife between his teeth. It made him snort but hey, at least he fucking _could_ snort. Roman braced his hips beneath his warm palms and rumbled over him,

"You nearly there?"

"Nearly."

Dean heard the rope snap and then suddenly his body was keeling over backwards since the thing that had been keeping him held upright for hours had suddenly ceased to be there anymore and without it he had forgotten how to use his feet or balance and so simply folded heavily like a ragdoll towards the earth.

"Aw crap – ,"

Roman caught him,

"It's okay babe I've gotcha, not gonna let you fall so you lean me back on me okay?"

"Thanks,"

Dean let it happen because he trusted him implicitly and he was rewarded by being carefully lowered down onto the floor whereupon his bigger brother slid hurriedly in behind him to become a human headboard to brace the copper blonde slump. Frozen concrete tried to bite through the material at his butt cheeks but even that felt pretty good too because it meant that he was finally _sat_ and not strung from rafters like a damn plucked goose.

He was _sitting_.

It was the simple things..

Dropping low onto his kneecaps in front of him the leaner of his brothers began to work lose the binds that were still tightly clamping his wrist bones together but which thanks to the little pocket knife were then shucked in record time before a hiss from both of the men hunkered around him brought him back to the blooded trenches cutting in through his skin.

Seth hissed,

"Damn it, I think we'll need to have those bandaged."

"How are you feeling babe?" Roman rumbled from behind him. The low bass timbre made him literally vibrate but for the copper blonde it felt like a healing spa massage and turned his raspy tones into something sort of lazy and borderline contented,

"Like m' on fire."

"Sorry it took us so fucking long to find you but we had to wait for that asshole to tell us where you were,"

Dean blinked,

Huh?

He had officially lost the plot of things which was hardly a surprise based on the _two_ knocks to the head but which still seemed to catch his teammate brothers in bewilderment when he peered up towards them with his brows knitted tight,

"What asshole?"

" _Bradshaw_ man, the big asshole that snatched you?"

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah."

" _He_ told you where I was?"

Bewilderment bloomed in the copper blonde brainstem but then obviously trickled out of the hazy blues too since the big man whose kneecaps he was practically sprawled between tapped his breastbone comfortingly and then tried to fill the blanks in. He managed two seconds before Seth took back over,

"That was the trade uce."

"He gets Ron Simmons plus a ready to go vehicle in exchange for the place he was keeping you."

Dean blinked,

But –

He then blinked a second time because no way had that happened since there was no chance in hell that Vince had let it go down. No way had the long-time mayor of their city let out a convicted prisoner than for no other reason than to bust _him_ loose. Maybe he had been captured for longer than he had figured and the months had filtered right back around to April Fools?

He swallowed,

"Vince seriously fuckin' went in for that?"

"Yeah man."

"Picked up the phone the second it was said and started bellowing about signing release forms and finding transport."

Dean could _not_ believe his ears.

Maybe –

But the same time maybe he _could_ believe it a little bit, because his relationship with their mayor was actually kind of friendly, only not in the way that normal human beings had friends because that was impossible when it came to the McMahon clan.

In spite of that though since he had started on the taskforce the twill suited blusterer had been a permanent force and in particular since their little band had patched the past over and hunkered in for round two he had been even _more_ involved.

Possibly that part would have happened regardless since the mayor was technically their biggest boss after all, but then there was the fact that Vince looked to him for other things, like watching out for and being there for his devil witch of a kid since the two of them were basically the most trusted male presences that Stephanie McMahon had left in her life and so maybe that really _had_ made them a family?

Dean thought it best to check a second time though,

"You sure?"

Roman snorted and then palmed his hair fondly,

"Yeah we're sure, that mean old bastard loves you and he sure as hell ain't the only one on that, now you wanna stand up and maybe head on out of here?"

Finally –

His response was hissed back,

"Fuck yes."

In manoeuvring his body back out into the moonlight, because evidently he had been right on the whole middle of the night thing, his brothers had time to fill him in on everything because his legs were barely working and so their progress was slow. Honestly it probably would have made their progress easier had their big man hauled him up and simply carried his ass, but the copper blonde had lost enough pride for one evening and his brothers both knew it and so respected his need to walk.

Bradshaw had evidently made it out of the city and was back in the wind with his sickening long-time friend, which he couldn't help but feel pretty massively at fault for because _he_ was the idiot that had been kidnapped again.

Seth shook his head at him,

"It could have been any _one_ of us or worse than that you know, I mean he could have taken Steph."

Dean blew a huff out,

"Yeah but he's still out there somewhere wearin' a Stetson an' bein' an asshole an' shit."

Roman pulled the car keys loose from his pocket as the pair of them helped hustle their hurting brother towards the truck, but still managed to snort in a type of warm familial fondness that he blended with rumble of warning.

"We'll find his ass uce."

"Yeah?"

"Believe me on that babe."

By the time they reached the truck Dean was feeling pretty shaky or like he had come first in a fucking marathon or maybe bench pressed a freaking horse or something and so slumped towards the hood and then leaned into his forearms where he tried to ignore the fact that he smelt like sweat and booze.

"Babe?"

"M' okay, kinda need a pit stop here though."

In the background there was buzzing as a cell phone began to ring and in response to it their littlest brother barked at the interruption and then rooted in his pocket past his collection of loose change before pulling the thing out and frowning at it briefly and then handing it over,

"Think he's calling for you man."

"Huh?"

Dean took the phone with a blink of bewilderment which was mostly pointed towards his super bloodied wrist since the thing looked worse beneath the orange colored street lamps or else much like it had recently been surgically attached. Eventually however his eyes fell on the cell screen and his stomach flipped over at the buzzing name,

 _Vince_.

Fuck –

He figured that their honcho would be pissed at him or something and had called to pitch the fit that he had totally earnt and so he sucked a heavy breath in and then hit the call button before bracing himself for bellowing and possible name calling,

"Yeah?"

" _Ambrose, is that you son?"_

"Uh huh,"

" _How are you feeling_?"

Son.

He wasn't mad at him.

Dean blew a breath out and then sank a little lower towards the black hood of the pickup that was blinking back brightly in the pale midnight light while his brothers looked on and as ever hovered beside him with brows furrowed at his response.

"I kinda smell like a bud lite."

In reply to him the twill suited mayor chuckled broadly and the harshness of its timbre practically light up the black skies because there were moments when he had figured he might not ever hear it and particularly when he had thought their head honcho would be mad.

Vince had released a _prisoner_ for him –

Dean suddenly felt like that could no longer be unsaid but wasn't too sure how to broach his towering thankfulness and so instead simply blurted it,

"Hey old man?"

" _Hmm_?"

"I mean, thanks."

Vince hummed back at him but then blew two words out that soothed some of the tension in the battered and bruised limbs and which implied that the copper blonde had never needed to say it because nobody needed to thank family.

" _Any time kid_."

* * *

 **Yep, there I go again with the mushy family ending. So sue me okay? No. Please don't! Anyway, I don't want to give away too much about next week so here are some vague descriptions…**

 **Dean finds something.**

 **Seth isn't happy.**

 **Dean is a sullen cutiepie!**

 **Hope to see you there!**


	25. Mother Goose

**Okay, so this story was inspired by earlier in the summer when pretty much this exact thing happened to me at work (well, the basic premise at least, not the random Dean stuff that I've thrown in with it). Hope you all like!**

 **Sodapop25, Thank you!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, You can say what you want about JBL, but the man was never an idiot. He did like his beer though! I know the clues at the end of the last chapter were a little bit vague, but I was sooo keen not to give too much away. I want you to be as surprised as poor Seth is (he loves Dean really!)**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you. Dean and Lauren is currently being rewritten. I had it all written out but I wrote it when my mother was in the hospital and reading it back it felt kind of 'off' so I've started again and it's coming, I promise!**

 **Skovko, Well maybe, JBL is probably the sort of guy that could pop back up. I do kind of like him (in real life, maybe I shouldn't) and his swagger kind of fits perfectly in here. So never say never!**

 **Cherry619, Haha, how do you know me so well?! Your guesses for this chapter are spot on, but I hope you like it anyway and besides, you still don't know** _**what**_ **the critter is! Agreed, I love writing stories about Dean being surprised that people love him too. I mean, he knows his boys do, but he sometimes forgets about the McMahon clan. He's their people too!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Hi, yep, the boys can't always win and nor can Vince, so I think it's sometimes good to show that. Nope, no villain in the Bo story, just Bo being...well, Bo! But yeah, I like when Vince has to admit he gruffly cares about someone. Obviously Steph is his girl, but he has a special place in his cold heart for Dean too! How could anyone not?!**

 **Cheryl24, Seth and Paige may happen again if I can think of a suitable storyline for her. But she'll never be a permanent presence or anything because this AU is shamelessly all about the boys and their dysfunctional heterosexual life partners situation! But I do like Paige, so…**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Yeah, Vince isn't the bad guy in these stories, he has a heart and he has certain folks he cares about. Steph, obviously, but the boys as well and particularly Dean. I think I read in real life that they had similar backgrounds or something, so they get on well in reality. I kinda liked that so in it goes!**

 **Mandy, Grief and depression can be horrible, but hang on in there because it** _ **will**_ **get better. I know the weather doesn't help either, but it always reminds me that I'm lucky to be safe and warm and have a roof over my head, even though on the down days it's hard to see the goodness in anything at all. Got a funny story for you this week, so I hope it makes you smile! Chin up, I've got your back!**

 **Minnie1015, Oh bless you, I'm impressed you managed to set aside anytime to get around to either of my updates last week. So well done on the multi-tasking! Looking forward to hear how it's all going whenever you managed to grab a second to yourself, but don't worry, I know how crazy tiring things must be so you focus on yourself for a bit!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Mother Goose**

Seth first picked up on the pitchy wittering noises as he trampled back up the staircase to where their open workspace was, but then stopped to briefly stamp on the floorboards because he could _not_ figure out where in the hell they were coming from.

Huh?

Beneath his feet the thick treads remained fixed and stable but the shrill little peeping continued to blare out and so knitting his brows he chose to carry on climbing before emerging with a frown into the brilliant flood of light.

Everything seemed normal.

From their kitchen in the corner where their packet of tootsie rolls and trusty coffee machine were kept, to the boardroom style table positioned before the flip board where the mugshots of the main players in their latest missions were pinned up, then over to the three workstations piled high with burnished folders where the bigger of his two teammates and brothers was sat, balancing a thick looking police report on his kneecap and scowling into the busy lines of typed out black text.

No Dean though –

But Seth could still hear the peeping, except possibly ten times louder than before and so lengthening his frown to where it basically swallowed him he turned towards the noise and then blinked a few times more.

"What in the hell?"

Dean was sat on the dust covered floorboards in the part of the warehouse they barely ever touched, since the place was so huge that even _with_ the tables and their kitchen and the couches most of the space remained unloved. His copper headed brethren was planted on his butt cheeks but with his long lanky legs stretched out beyond his frame which were seemingly being used like some type of makeshift barrier to keep the tiny creatures between his kneecaps hemmed in.

Ducklings.

Eleven of the tiny things –

Ducklings.

But being corralled by the lazily stretched out shins and the whole scene of which was so unexpected that their technical man responded by practically blowing the roof off the place.

Because –

 _Because_ –

"Did you bring _birds_ into the office?"

Dean looked back up at him from where he was positioned with the tiny little critters padding happily between his knees, or else flapping their tiny wings or letting loose the peep-peep sounds that the teeny tiny things were continuing to emit.

Dean had poured them out a bowl of water from the kitchen which none of them would ever be having soup from again but which the tiny balls of feathers were pushing to take turns in and bobbing on pretty happily like they were out on the open sea.

Dean hissed back at him,

"Ducklings an' _shush_ man, I'm not havin' you hollerin' in front of the kids in case it blows out their tiny ear canals or somethin', or scares 'em or whatever."

Hell.

Seth lifted a hand and then used it to clamp on the bridge of his nose heavily since he could feel a headache beginning to form and because sometimes his copper headed and free spirited brother required levels of patience only possessed by convent nuns, or possibly by a really, really calm type or a person who had recently smoked their own body weight in pot but neither of which were him or likely to _ever_ be. But god help him if his next question wasn't whispered all the same,

"Why would you bring a flock of _birds_ into the office?"

"Why not?"

" _Because_ man, birds are unclean."

Besides which the last time the technical man had seen his brothers he had been heading from the building to hit a brand new witness up and to try and find a couple more clues for the mission that the boss had thrown their way a little earlier in the week and at which point his teammates had been shrugging into their coats again having informed him that they were heading out to buy some lunch.

Pad thai he had hoped –

Maybe some shrimp balls.

But then how in the name of all things pure and holy had they forgotten the food but brought back baby birds instead? Like that was a rational or reasonable trade off or like maybe they had merely purchased the raw ingredients themselves?

Dean snorted back at him,

"C' mon, they're freakin' _babies_ an' besides how could _this_ make your skin crawl man?"

 _Peep-peep_.

 _Peep-peep_.

Dean lifted a tiny body and then held the cheeping bundle up high beside his cheek before nuzzling his nose into the brace of fluffy feathers like he took pleasure in the sensation of them tickling his skin and which then made him beam with such pure elation that he resembled a kid trapped in a candy store through the night, who had been told to help himself to try and keep his strength up and so was basically in heaven.

Dean had always loved pets.

Seth hissed,

"Hey, birds are covered in pathogens and especially the wild ones so cut that out."

"Nope."

"I mean it man – ,"

"Me too an' besides, stop callin' my kids _germy_."

Seth threw his hands up then spun back into the warehouse in the hopes that through tagging their bigger brother into the bickering he would find a level head that was prepared to back him up and so to make that point clearer he levelled his hand towards the playpen and the happy peep-freaking-peep sounds,

"A little help here man?"

Roman chuckled but then shook his head wisely,

"Nah, I'm keeping back from this."

In helpfulness terms it was his standard approach to things since he had long stuck to a policy of not picking out a winner when his littler brothers were busy butting heads and so to that end he lowered his big brow then kept on reading, like the scene playing out before him was totally normal. But which it absolutely and definitely was not.

Seth blinked,

"Does nobody else here see the problem?"

Dean huffed back,

"Sure looks that way."

"Where in the hell is the mother at anyway?"

Because knowing his luck she'd been picked up with her ducklings and then left in the sink in the kitchen to keep wet, or perhaps placed on their couch for a mom break, but the bark of which made Dean sort of falter then look down.

In his lap the tiny bodies were busily clambering over him like his kneecaps were some sort of human based ballpark, but the haunted expression on his features threw their tech man who then frowned back in bewilderment at him.

Huh?

Roman took the ropes,

"Don't worry 'bout that uce, the mother won't be looking for these little ones anymore."

"How come?"

"Bus ran her over."

Dean blurted the words out in tones that were heavy and bitterly raw but which both of his brothers understood in a heartbeat because in real terms it was the same thing that had happened to _her_ who had been taken by bad motoring nearly two years earlier, but whose loss was so fresh for the bereaved copper operative that it might as well have happened a few _weeks_ before.

Seth blinked.

Damn.

Probably then it was the reason for the helicopter mothering, since his brother likely felt the babies and he shared a bond, but which still made their technical man blow a long breath out, in a final and even toned plea for some sanity in the midst of all the craziness,

 _Peep-peep._

 _Peep-peep_.

"Listen man they need to be in to a sanctuary or something, where they can be cared for by people that know how this works and where they have food stuff and veterinarians and heat lamps and can have the best chance of heading back out into the wild."

Dean huffed,

"C' mon, I can raise 'em no problem."

"Where man?"

"I was like thinkin' in the bathtub maybe?"

"Dean – ,"

"Because honestly I kinda tend to prefer the shower anyway so the bathtub is basically like, never really bein' used, which means when you think about this _logically_ an' everythin' it totally makes sense to keep 'em with me."

Crap.

Dean wasn't kidding.

Not even remotely, because that was by no means the type of prankster he was and since his messy head was so full of curiosities at the best of times that he was therefore _precisely_ the type of hairbrained lunatic who might honestly have believed he _could_ raise a flock of birds, in the middle of the city in a two bed apartment but which had to be the most insane thing in the world.

"Listen man you _cannot_ raise eleven birds in your bathtub, because even if you _could_ figure how to make it work or what the hell to feed them or how to take care of them then – ,"

"Twelve."

"What?"

"You said eleven but you missed one 'cos there's twelve."

Dean was beaming at him with a bizarre sort of smugness that lit up their warehouse even brighter than the sun, which was pouring in shafts through the industrial square windows and bathing their middle brother in a holy looking light, beneath which the bundle of babies were hunkered but eleven of them only and no more than that.

"Twelve?"

"Uh huh,"

"Okay, so in that case why is one of them missing?"

"It isn't missin' man, I mean what kind of backup mama would that make me if I up an' lost track of my own freakin' babies in the first two hours?"

"So then where is the thing?"

Dean pointed,

"Over there man, an' perfectly happy see? No way is it lost."

Seth turned with the hand and then followed the outstretched tips of the fingers which seemed to indicate their bigger brother in their sweep but who for _his_ part had been leisurely reading through case files and had not been involved in the bickering in the least.

For a second he kept still but then because he had been motioned to, or else because his bones were beginning to freeze up, their powerhouse leaned himself further back into his swivel chair and in response to the buffeting something chimed from his lap which their muscle man had hidden by holding up a file, but the noise of which was high pitched and baby bird based.

 _Peep-peep._

 _Peep-peep._

Seth let out a moan and then let his eyes close rapidly,

"Please tell me you haven't man – ,"

Roman blew out a breath, but then reluctantly flipped back the pages of the murder case to reveal a tiny ball of feathers between his knees which had at some point huddled up into the fabric of his pant fronts and then fallen prettily happily and heavily to sleep.

"Uce come on, I mean they're _ducklings_."

"So you too huh?"

Roman held up his hands, like the normal laws of willpower had no hopes of succeeding when faced by helpless babies or else the pitter patter of webbed feet. To further that premise Dean then plucked a new bird out and then held it his way with his eyebrows raised up, like he was possibly holding out a platter of brownies and trying to tempt a dieter to break their fast.

"Wanna hold one now?"

"No, I told you before man, they're infested."

"Nah not these ones, they're like practically _new_ an' besides, I think you'll totally like this one because of what I called him."

"You _named_ them?"

But of course he had, because heaven forbid that his kooky older brother had responded logically like putting the things into a box or by taking them off to have them checked over when instead he could baptise them and bring them back to his place of work.

"You _have_ to name 'em."

"Dean – ,"

"Not right otherwise, be like nobody wanted to have 'em around. Plus you're not meant to say crap like that to children because when they can understand it that stuff might fuck 'em up, that right?"

Roman nodded back at him,

"Yep, sure is babe."

Besides which it seemed likely that the copper blonde would know, based on the fact his upbringing had been crappy and that his own parental figures had often beaten him with words, if not _more_ than that on several occasions since hands and fists had been sometimes thrown too and the knowledge of that put a spike through the brothers and shone a brand _new_ light on the mothering thing.

Seth blew a breath out,

"Fine man, what have you named him?"

He was referring to the baby still cupped in the hands and being offered out towards him like some prize winning trophy with a beam of sheer pride on the unpredictable lips,

"Seth."

"Huh – what?"

"No man, that's what I called him, I named him for you because he seemed – like – more kinda _hyped_ than the others, like outta the whole bunch of 'em this one had no chill an' so he kept tryin' to escape an' fly an' that whole thing like he needs to be busy kinda all of the time."

Huh.

Like him.

In real terms though Seth wasn't sure it was a compliment being compared to a tiny baby bird, but then again the copper blonde had always favored the whole _wing thing_ since he had once compared their tech man to a frantic hummingbird and so on that front maybe a mallard was better or a step higher on the food chain since it was certainly a bigger bird.

Figuring that it was, Seth then looked towards the baby which was still being offered out to him like a totem or a charm but which unlike the others was not emitting the _peep-peeping_ like instead of being frightened he was taking things in. He seemed like a fighter and his namesake kind of liked that so he put out his palm with a long blown out moan, which hopefully hid the building excitement, because _hell_ they were cute little pathogen carrying feathered things.

Damn.

Damn and blast.

"Whatever man, hand me over."

Dean responded with a beam, before slowly and carefully passing across the bundle which he then placed lightly into his littler brother's hands, but not before letting his mama instincts take over and mumbling at him roughly,

"Take it easy, he's real small."

Seth threw his eyes to the heavens in long suffering but then pulled the feathered body even closer to his own before blinking in surprise because his namesake was so tiny that it felt like he was holding nothing more than a wisp of cloud.

Despite his proportions though the baby was ballsy because the second he had hit the brand new pair of hands he began to peck his tiny beak at Seth's thumbnail like in his own little mind he was mauling it off the bone.

Dean beamed,

"See man? He's busy, like I told you."

"Fine, yeah he's _busy_ but I still think he should be checked. I mean, all of them should be."

"Huh?"

Blinking blue eyes rose rapidly from the floorboards where the middle man been scanning the happy bundle of sleeping babes, but which then took on a look of both resolute stubbornness and a mild form of panic on hearing the words.

In response to it the technical expert held his free hand out like he was trying to make a circus lion back up, but which was lessened by the fact he was battling with his namesake who was trying to make a Free Willy style launch for freedom towards the earth.

"I _mean_ like a veterinarian or something."

Dean frowned,

"C' mon, they're like _totally_ fine man."

"But how would we know? I mean you already said you found them wandering loose in traffic, so what happens if one of them was clipped by a car or breathed in fumes or something else we couldn't know about? I'm not saying to hand them over, I'm only saying check on their health."

Dean blinked back.

He was clearly conflicted because on the one hand he knew that his brother was right and besides which the thought of his brood being wounded or in any way hurt kind of _burrowed_ into his soul. But then butted up towards and crashed headlong into that was his notion that a vet would try make him give them up, but which point blank was never in a million going to happen because he could _totally_ take care of them and love them better too and certainly harder than some overpaid professional who would use sock puppets to feed them.

Nope.

He looked up with a pout,

"They'll try an' take 'em away from me, because they'll think I'm not prepared for 'em,"

"Well then we won't let them babe, it's as simple as that."

Roman murmured the sentence from the papers that had been beginning to pile up before his keyboard for weeks, but all the while rubbing his broad fingers over the feathers of the tiny little baby tucked up snoozing on his lap.

Probably thanks to his being a father he had reverted pretty instinctively to his most light handed touch, which his brothers themselves had felt on numerous occasions since the loose hold was the same one he frequently used on them whenever he felt they had been hurt or needed comfort and which, in spite of his bulk was always full of love.

Dean looked up at him,

"Yeah?"

"I mean come on uce, you saved them, so technically that makes you their baby mama now."

In response the blue eyes seemed to briefly think things over before looking up with some hesitance but then nodding his head and blowing out a breath like he wasn't too happy but knew that a health check was best for his kids.

"Okay fine, but if some freakin' white coat tries to take 'em away from me m' pullin' my gun on 'em,"

Seth blinked,

"I'll bear that in mind."

Even so it took them nearly a half an hour to find somewhere the copper blonde felt happy taking his brood, since most of the places in their immediate location were brushed in a heartbeat for reasons unknown but also partly because their newly minted duckling father had a list of requirements that he needed to have filled and which included a minimum numbers of years in the business and not having a single poor review listed on Yelp.

In the end however they chose a place five blocks over which Dean seemed to think was halfway suitable fit for no other reason than he liked the picture of the woman who had smiled out brightly from the banner at the website top.

"That one."

"Huh?"

"I wanna take 'em to that one."

In relative terms it had been a pretty standard looking site, but their brother had essentially launched himself towards it before stabbing at it pointedly with the tip of his thumb and probably because the beaming woman looked blonde and bubbly and so was therefore not a million miles away from somebody else.

 _Her_.

Dean would have made a pretty fantastic father.

Kooky perhaps but a hell of a lot of fun, besides which getting to be one of the people in his circle had ever been a heart-warmingly special feeling thing, since the copper blonde tended to choose his family members sparingly but then held onto them as tightly as he possibly could.

Not that he couldn't still feasibly _have_ children but they all knew he never would do –

Not without her.

Ducklings then would simply have to fill that hole in for him, which was fine because it seemed like they already had based on the care that their nervy undercover man took in stepping from the car with his peeping cardboard box before proceeding to cross the sidewalk like he was holding something priceless that he was terrified might be broken or damaged in a fall.

He barked at a bike messenger who sped past too closely in huffed scratchy tones which were bitter and hot,

"Dude, I'm walkin' here, try usin' the brakes huh?"

"Easy babe,"

Roman put a broad hand on his shoulder which he then used to help steer his brother in towards the entrance for the veterinary surgery that it had taken so long to freaking pick, before standing to one side as the box shuffled past him with more caution than either of them had seen Dean ever use in his whole life.

The undercover man frowned back,

"Roman he could 'a freakin' killed 'em or knocked 'em into the road,"

"I know he could babe."

"Maybe I'll try an' squish somethin' _he_ cares about."

But fortunately for all of them that chance had long passed and so instead their increasingly huffy papa bear of a brother blew a long breath out and then continued his careful tread, which happily took him right in over the threshold and then on into an open and clinically pale room, one side of which was taken up by a reception desk and two potted palms that brought some much needed color in.

Rows of hard metal chairs stretched out before them which were peppered with people holding cat baskets and leash ends and each of which the copper blonde looked on with suspicion since his babies seemed both tasty and snack-sized for their pets. He braced the cardboard in towards his body tighter and then willed his brood silent.

"Whoa now kids, hush up, before you're fuckin' made into sandwiches or somethin'."

His babies ignored him.

 _No freaking chance_.

In fact they totally piped up louder so that the building which had previously been bizarrely sort of muted was then instantly filled with their shrill little peeps and which might as well have been a predator beacon. Dean rolled his eyes up and then shook his head wearily, because baby birds were seriously fucking _hard_ to keep safe. Lucky for them though they were also cute with it.

Duckling Seth especially.

"Whoa there, hold it man, no leapin' out."

Dean pushed the flaps of the box a little closer to stop the teensy namesake from trying to launch loose then took a hasty pew in a halfway empty corner, on the far side of the room to where a hungry rottweiler was sat but beside a prim and expressionless looking lady holding a mewing cat basket with a tail poking out which was flicking in evident levels of fury at having been holed up.

Dean knew _that_ feeling.

Poor fuck.

Roman trampled over and then parked his bulk beside him which proceeded to spread out over two of the chairs but which captured the interests of a brunette sitting opposite who began smiling at him from over the bunny on her lap.

 _Not_ a euphemism.

Dean snorted roughly and was still sort of chuckling when their littlest brother moved back in across, having successfully booked them in at the reception but with an weirdly hesitant sort of look on his face which his bigger siblings knew in an instant meant trouble. Dean responded instantly by holding tighter to the box.

"Fuck, I knew it. They wanna take 'em away from me."

Seth rolled his brown orbs,

"Cool it man, no, but we can't see the blonde that you liked on their website."

Dean blinked back at him in measures of surprise which then rapidly morphed into total uncertainty. Because _her_ picture had been the whole reason they were there and the one smiling face he had felt could be trusted to not thieve his birds or to somehow mess them up.

Being told therefore that she would _not_ be treating them made him feel restless and then triggered his need to scratch, which had been a pretty natural tick for most of his existence but had morphed into a compulsion over the previous months. He overcame it in the moment by clearing his throat way too loudly so that people turned their heads,

"Why can't we see her man?"

"Because she left last week to start her maternity leave."

"You mean she's knocked up?"

"Uh huh."

"Dude that fuckin' _sucks_."

In response to his bark the woman beside them blew out a decidedly haughty sounding sniff and then turned herself sideways in the creaky metal waiting chair so that the cat basket was turned in fully towards the box.

Inside it was a blob that seemed more fluff than feline but which blinked a pair of blue eyes with hatred their way, before seemingly narrowing in on the sounds of the cheeping then licking a tongue out over its lips. It was like the damn was actually _picturing_ his babies slapped between two slices of bread and so the copper blonde bared his teeth at the fuzzball in an audibly warning snap.

"Dean, cut it out – ,"

"He was eyeballin' m' peanuts."

"He's a cat."

"He's a bird killer, plus a really fucked up lookin' one at that."

Both of them heard the woman huff beside them and then saw her begin to swivel round on her butt, like she was fixing to tear the copper blonde a new strip off and which she might even have then managed had a voice rang out, in tones that were upbeat and timed to perfection,

"Dean Ambrose please?"

Seth hustled him up and then shot a brief look of apology to the woman who instead turned her murderous attentions to him and made him propel his middle brother even faster towards the room in the corner they were being hailed from.

Dean frowned,

"Go easy man, m' carryin' tiny birds here."

But he stumbled through into the room nonetheless which felt pretty small and then promptly became smaller when their powerhouse squeezed in behind them as well. The redheaded professional waiting in front of them blinked in surprise but then chuckled a little bit and Dean kind of liked that.

"Wow, brought the whole family?"

Roman shrugged,

"We're the uncles."

In response to the statement the veterinarian laughed again and then put out a hand to each one of them individually with the exception of their bird mama who had his hands full with the brood and who was peering with suspicion towards the white coat and the name badge.

 _Amy Dumas_.

"So now fellers, what have you brought for me?"

"Ducklings," Dean blew out like a sullen little kid and figuring that was probably the best they would pry from him the eldest of the brothers stepped forward with a beam, laying his hands on the tense shoulders of his teammate and then kneading them a little to try and keep him calm.

Easy uce.

He helped the copper blonde to lower the box reluctantly and then opened the flaps to expose the bobbing mass,

"We found them in the road must have been a couple of hours back, looked like their mama had been hit by a bus so this one here scooped them up into his coat folds and we took them back to the office, where they've been chilling ever since."

 _Peep-peep._

 _Peep-peep_.

Ducking Seth launched for freedom which then nearly threw him wholesale onto the floor before the copper blonde managed to prevent that by catching him and then pulling him to his chest where the hot-head belonged and thumbing the miniature fuzzy skull lovingly. It had seemed like they had liked it when he had tried that before but it earned him a peck on one thumbnail with the beak tip because of course of all the babies Mini Seth would be pissed.

Like his namesake often was.

Doctor Dumas reached over to take the chick from him and reluctantly the undercover man passed the kid across, before watching like a hawk as she pushed a strand of her red hair back and then began to look over the tiny little thing.

"Oh wow, they're super little, I'm thinking maybe only a couple of hours."

Dean blinked.

Huh.

He had known they were pretty new, but had figured that maybe they had been hatched out for a little longer since the things had been so punchy and ballsy as hell. He then began to panic that because he hadn't known that maybe he had inadvertently made things somehow worse. Maybe putting them straight into water was bad for them or was too much for their teeny tiny newly formed bones? Putting up a hand he began to scratch his neckline then motioned towards them loosely by flapping a palm,

"Uh, I put 'em in like, a little bowl of water, so I dunno if that was maybe _wrong_ or shit?"

He braced himself hard for the potential duck based lecture but then relaxed as the redheaded looked up with a smile which seemed both kind and super reassuring, like she dealt with jittery brand new pet fathers all the time.

Perhaps she even ran night classes for them?

Breathing exercises?

Self-confidence boosters maybe?

Instead she chuckled lightly and put her tiny patient back again where it promptly nuzzled right into the bundle of birds and which then allowed her to extract a second chick out.

Eleven more left.

"No, they can swim in a heartbeat, but their feathers have no natural waterproofing initially, so once they've been in for a couple of minutes you have to get them out and put them under a lamp, because otherwise they can struggle to keep up their body heat up and naturally being small makes them prone to catching chills. The sanctuary we like to send them too will keep them beneath a heat source for probably the next week or two at the least."

Dean froze bodily and then spluttered,

"Did you say Sanctuary?"

Doctor Dumas looked up at him,

"Yes."

Her expression seemed puzzled like she couldn't see the problem but fortunately she seemed to catch on pretty fast, which was probably because the man standing before her looked like she had basically kicked him in the crotch. Her tone remained light but professionally even,

"Ducks make for pretty darn horrible roommates."

"Huh?"

"No housebreaking skills," she continued not looking up, "Plus these little guys need constant running water, which is probably the reason they're banned as pets by city law."

Damn.

Dean had known that part of things already but for some bizarre reason had hoped she would not. Huh, well there was _that_ theory blown from the water faster than a hunter with a loaded harpoon gun and precisely in the way he had feared it would happen if he let somebody know that he had a box of tiny ducks. He opened his mouth to express that through cussing but was beaten to the punch by his little brother instead,

"Aw crap, I mean, is there no way he could keep them?"

Roman tried too,

"Because we promised him before – ,"

"I mean, he has a free bathtub and everything."

"No one would love them better than uce here and you can believe me when I tell you that."

In response to the sudden outpouring of support for him, the copper blonde operative let loose a quirky grin and then let the feeling sit with him for a moment. Because being so loved was a powerful thing and helped to plug the little hole in his brainstem that for whatever reason had been beating super hard and _had_ been ever since he had opened his eyes that morning since sometimes the grief and the hurt still bubbled up, while at other times he could feel sort of content and kind of _happy_.

Honestly his emotions made no freaking sense.

But then bereavement was a weird and unpredictable thing to handle. Which was why having his best friends fighting for him made him smile, because they always had his back and therefore neither one was prepared to stand by idly and let his box of babies get taken away.

Duckling Seth poked his head up over the box edge –

 _Peep-peep._

 _Peep-peep_.

Dean stared on back and the tiny little face filled him suddenly with understanding. Because his role as their parent was to make their world _right_ and as nice as his bathroom and unused roll top tub were, neither of those things was right for wild ducks, besides which he wanted them to have the best lives ever, in ponds and lakes and flying free for miles.

He cleared his throat and then mumbled,

"You can take 'em."

Everyone fell silent and then looked back at him,

"What?"

"Babe you mean that?"

Dean nodded somewhat reluctantly, because _shit_ having birds for pets would have been fun and he had half been imaging training them up so they follow him so he could make people clap when he went to the store with a line of little waddling mallards behind him.

But no –

He wanted better.

He wanted better for _them_.

In the pause the redhead pulled the box in towards her, clearly out of concern that he would possibly change his mind, but which he simply let happen as he swallowed a knot back and then returned to scratching his neck on repeat. But for once in his life he was choosing the right thing and so therefore deserved a medal or a certificate for proof. Instead of that however he cleared his throat roughly and then motioned towards the ever peep-peeping cardboard folds,

"Can I say goodbye to 'em?"

"Sure."

He stepped in a little closer as her hands unloosened from their clamp on the box, but which meant that the redhead was still hovering closely as he scratched his skin harder and then tried not to screw it up, because it felt like the moment was pretty important.

He had never had the chance to say farewell to loved ones before.

He swallowed,

 _Fuck_.

"Uh, so, kinda looks like this is it boys. Dopey, Sneezy, Doc, Bashful, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy? I think you kids should probably stick together, because brothers are important an' you can take my word on that. Mini Roman? Pretty sure you'll hulk out an' be the muscles, so you make sure to keep an eye out for the rest of these fluffs. Moe, Curly, Larry, I mean we had a lot of laughs huh? Make sure you never forget 'bout that. An' as for you Baby Seth, man stop tryin' to leap off 'a things, wait for those wings to come through like they're meant to an' _then_ be a little freakin' hot-head alright?"

His babies replied by calling back at him,

 _Peep-peep._

 _Peep-peep_.

In spores of its pitch he would freaking miss that sound, but instead put his hand to the box for the last time and then turned back to the two men stood behind, who looked a complex mixture of bewildered and concerned for him, but who had never once belittled him and never fucking would.

Roman smiled warmly,

"You ready to get outta here?"

"Uh huh."

Dean turned back on the threshold to the room and towards the tiny little calls of the babies and then to the redhead who was holding the box and who seemed to know precisely what he wanted to say to her since she shot him a heartening and honest faced response,

"Don't worry, these ones will be happy and healthy."

Seth put a hand on his shoulder,

"Come on man."

Back out in the waiting room the haughty looking woman with her snub-nosed persian cat had been hustled in to be seen and so the copper blonde was at least spared her stare of condemnation as they crossed back over the floor tiles and out into the sun. It had been a nice bright morning and having had the chance to warm up, the beams were beginning to have an effect, since the heat hit them all as they stepped from the air conditioning and back out onto the street where the truck was parked up and only metres from where the bicycle messenger had tried to freaking _kill_ him thirty minutes before.

Dean blew out a breath,

"Huh – ,"

Roman instantly put a hand out, even though they all knew the single syllable meant nothing much and had instead been an exhalation of bewilderment. But even so the big man stifled it. He was the eldest. That was his job.

"Come on babe, let's eat, we skipped lunch back there remember?"

Seth chimed in too,

"Anywhere you like man, your choice."

Dean blinked,

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh, whatever you fancy."

"What could you go for about right now babe?"

Dean thought about that then shut his eyes for a second, like he could possibly tap a line to his stomach somehow and consult with his intestines on a telepathic level to figure out what type of nourishment would satisfy them most and the answer to which then surprised him a little because honestly it seemed like a pretty poor choice.

But then who the hell was he to argue with his stomach?

He scratched his neck and then looked up with a sheepish smile,

"Peking duck?"

* * *

 **Who wouldn't want a box of baby ducklings and also, who couldn't resist the image of Dean with baby ducklings? Well, not me evidently!**

 **Okay, next week Dean goes undercover in a school. Argh. Children! Not so cute (and Dean agrees!)**


	26. Saved By The Bell

**No idea why, but suddenly I couldn't get the image of Dean as a school teacher out of my head. But of course he particular brand of teaching might be different from the other members of the faculty…**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Funnily enough I do have one coming up that deals a bit with Dean's past, but have plenty more ideas, either for this series or in a brand new story of meeting some people that Dean knew back when.**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, I knew you would know what it was and is it sad that I was peering into the box of ducklings I instantly thought 'aha, new Dean idea?' Dean ideas are practically everywhere, but that had be one of the cutest ones though!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Aww, thanks.**

 **Cherry619, Yep, aren't I being good to you? Dean and animals and now Dean and kids, except these are the horrible, teenage variety and Dean is not so keen on them...or at least not at first anyway for a very good reason!**

 **Mandy, Oh no, the flu sucks, hope the symptoms have died down a little and I'm glad the last chapter picked you back up. More Dean playing (sort of, reluctant) daddy in this one, but with a bit more ass kicking for good measure too. Hope you like it!**

 **Skovko, I tried keeping the ones we found at work, but the boss made us take them to a sanctuary...which was the right idea in hindsight. But trust, me, I knew totally how Dean was feeling. Ducklings are the literal best things in the world!**

 **HannonsPen, As far as Dean was concerned, the babies being new was a very good argument, and he won't hear otherwise! Lol!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Oh no, sorry you're sick. Allow me to be the one to say it (because someone has to, its sickness law) *ahem* there's a lot of it going round. There, I feel better now. Hope you do too and from ducklings I now present you with children, for your viewing pleasure!**

 **Rebel8954, Yep, Dean takes his parenting duties very seriously...but maybe more so for animals than kids. Frankly Seth should just be grateful that Dean rescued ducklings and not a den full of wolves or teeny tiny baby rattlesnakes. So he is still not as dangerous as Bo is on adopting things!**

 **Back to school in 3, 2, 1...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Saved By The Bell**

Because of the fact he had near perfect vision — which had ever been one of his few familial perks — Dean had never before had to wear spectacles and so therefore had never thought about them too much, _or_ spent time wondering how his face might look in them or whether he could pull them off in terms of fashion and style.

It turned out could though.

He was freaking _born_ to wear them –

They made him looked clever and in total control, which was probably the reason that the kids in his lessons sat and blinked enraptured as he basically made stuff up, or otherwise had it fed in from the van through the earpiece that he kept tucked beneath the newly slicked back head of hair which his littlest brother had insisted he switch up a little because the scruffy looking locks were not _learned_ enough.

"Ugh – ,"

Dean blew the noise out as he filled up his thermos from the beaker of hot coffee kept topped up in the break room and then clunked it back into its holder pretty loudly before taking a long swig of the burning brown stuff.

He wasn't much used to the early school mornings and over the week it had started to show, in the heavy looking circles forming fast beneath his blue orbs and in the fact that his normal routine was fucked up so that his meal times were offset and so too were his sleep patterns, which was beginning to mess with his finely tuned head and was therefore the reason that he had completely forgotten breakfast which had _then_ triggered the need for hot coffee instead.

Fuck he hated teaching.

Hated it fiercely and everybody in it because the whole lot of them were –

"Hello?"

Dean blinked and then mildly startled a little which slopped a wash of bean blend over his hand and made him bark back in instinctive reaction that shot out both loud and frustrated sounding,

" _Fuck_."

"Oops, I'm so sorry I thought you heard me coming,"

Dean spun back to let loose a barb and then instantly caught his lip and bit on it heavily because the person blinking back at him was blonde haired and blue eyed and that combination nearly always made his heart hitch, if only for a moment before he was able to push it back.

It wasn't _her_ though because he knew it could never be and because had she been living she would never have been _there_. In a middle school on the expensive suburban outskirts of their city where the houses were super large and had heated swimming pools. _His_ girl had been a nurse not a freaking teacher but then that counted for little because _he_ was a cop and yet there he still was stood in a teachers' break room holding a pot of coffee and pretending he belonged.

His colleague bit her bottom lip,

"Did it burn you?"

"Huh?"

His blue eyes were fixed in on her mouth in their entirety because even though she wasn't his much loved fiancé there were no two ways about it, the mathematics teacher was hot and it made him lament on his own haggard tutor in whose lessons he had often found himself falling to sleep but the learning factor of which would have probably been sky high had the stunning blonde been strutting before the blackboard instead.

Hubba hubba.

" _Hey Dean, keep focused this isn't a beauty pageant we're trying to run here_ ,"

Harsh tones through the earpiece made him bump in shock suddenly which then slopped a second round of hot coffee over his hand, to the point where he felt like simply tossing the lot out or throwing the portion clean over his head since most of it was landing on his bare skin anyway, so why not freaking help it out a little bit?

"Mr. Moxley?"

Dean coughed at the woman blinking in front of him and then stowed his building fury, since killing his brother could wait, whereas his colleague and the woman who had been put in place as his mentor probably needed an immediate response.

Damn.

He smiled sheepishly at her,

"Uh sorry, m' not too bright in the mornings, is there like, somethin' I can help you with?"

Maybe like picking a book from the top shelf or twisting a cap loose or something manly like that, because even though the copper blonde was committed to one woman or at least the everlasting _remembrance_ of one, the buxom teacher had stirred the latent teenager inside of him which was probably not professional in any way shape or form.

Blues eyes smiled back at him,

"The bell – ,"

"Uh, the _what_ now?"

"The bell for lessons sounded five minutes back, you're supposed to be in English."

Dean blinked in response then and threw a brand new curse out, because the blonde stood in front of him was one hundred percent right while _he_ was a moron whose classroom was probably being torn up, which may not have bothered him had he been a _normal_ teacher but was far more problematic in his being a cop since the room had been tailored with hidden weapons and panic buttons which were potentially really bad if the kids found them.

 _Fuck._

His sprint from the room and then out into the squeaky hallway spilt the rest of the coffee onto his hand but he was far too busy panting breathlessly at his teammates to worry about the searing and hot bubbling of his skin, since the school was freaking huge and he frequently lost his way in it so and therefore needed instructions,

"Direct me."

" _Take a right man –_ ,"

"Oh an' real nice work keepin' me up on my schedule."

" _Huh_?"

"How in the world could you miss the freakin' bell?"

" _Stop barking at me man,_ "

"But – ,"

" _Besides we're not in there so you're the one that missed the bell."_

Seth had a point, but because the copper blonde was not prepared to own up to that _or_ hunt for the words since he was running and out of breath, he simply continued to haul ass past the lockers and the long stretched out hallways which freaking all looked the same. Eventually though he landed on one that seemed familiar and a classroom which had lines from literature stuck up haphazardly with tape since the teacher who usually taught within the four walls had evidently been the type to favor a creative learning space.

He burst through the door,

"Right, everybody hold it, I'm here so you can stop freakin' tearin' up the place."

In response to the statement twenty four faces blinked back at him from the little seats behind the tables at which they were parked, but with blank faced expressions that totally threw him because honestly it looked pretty freaking bizarre and their silence chilled him.

Fuck.

Evidently in his absence the little crapholes had pulled _something_ but since he had been late he had no idea what and so therefore sloped towards his own chair slowly on the balls of his toes like they had tipped out thumbtacks or potentially loosened up one of the floorboards or maybe hung a leaded weight high up above his head like some sort of cartoon plucked straight from Wile E Coyote.

He eyed them suspiciously and then rumbled,

"M' watchin' you."

But it wasn't until he plopped himself onto his swivel chair that the reason for their innocence let rip loud and clear as a long raspy noise parped from underneath his butt cheeks and then kept on rumbling as he tried to hurriedly stand back up.

 _Ppppprrrrrrrrrrtttt_.

In a burst the children exploded in peals of laughter which nearly blew the fucking roof off but which turned the copper blonde pretty much maroon with fury as he finally launched back to his feet less than gracefully holding the offending whoopee cushion aloft but which then made the damned little hell hounds howl harder, because they were bastards.

Every single one of them.

Roman chuckled broadly in his ear canal,

" _Aww, kids uce_."

But the amusement hardly helped to better Dean's mood because the last thing the copper blonde undercover lawman needed was _more_ freaking laughter and so to that end he heaved out a heavy sounding breath and then marched towards the windows while beating back the compulsion to maybe pull loose his police badge and throw them all into cells for being pinheads because _that_ was a lesson he totally thought they would learn, but instead tossed the prank item hard through the opening which then failed when the thing managed to hook on the catch, whereupon it toppled back and flopped down beside his boot soles to further barks of laughter.

Fucking fuck this fucking shit.

"Detention for the next person that freakin' _smiles_ funny."

It was pretty impressive how fast they shut up because even though they were law breaking brattish little hormones, they were each of them hoping to move onto better things like becoming snooty lawyers or else the bosses of hedge funds or maybe marrying into families that had more money than theirs had.

Seth mumbled back at him through the earpiece,

" _Take it easy man_ ,"

But then that was a pretty simple thing for him to say, because his brothers were sat back kicking their feet up in the surveillance van whereas _he_ was there busting his hump before the kids and probably _would_ be until their stupid case was over, which looked totally set to last into another week. Dean let his blue eyes roam over the tweeners that were blinking back at him looking hopelessly trite and then wondered very briefly if the cane was still legal if used for the right reasons?

Hmmm.

He figured probably not but was still sort of honing in on the back of the classroom when one of the hateful teenagers loosely cleared their damn throat and at which point he realized that they were all looking at him blankly like they were waiting for instructions their fake teacher in no way had.

Crap and triple crap.

"Uh – ,"

" _Tell them to write an essay on the meaning of remorse,"_ Roman boomed in over the line and in such heavy tones that the copper blonde beamed brightly because his brother was letting his parental instincts run wild in a way that explained why his own tiny princess was such a well behaved and thoughtful little kid, since her father obviously balanced loving her totally with keeping her manners and people skills in check.

Dean smirked broadly.

Payback could be beautiful.

"I need five hundred long ones on why prankin' is bad an' I need 'em turned in by end of this period or m' keepin' you here through recess an' lunch, an' I want like proper spellin' an' full sentences an' that crap so no half assin' this because trust me I'll know."

 _Gasp_.

Baleful tween eyes blinked back at him in horror but then slowly began to lower in towards their books to begin the task they only had themselves to blame for and that the copper blonde therefore felt totally happy handing out.

Possibly he shouldn't have said the word _crap_ though.

Crap.

But to hell with that part because he was in charge and besides which the whole thing was so totally crazy that he was basically trying to hold on in any way he could since the last thing he needed was to become a freaking laughing stock who couldn't take control of a handful of snot-nosed kids, when _theoretically_ he was supposed to be a teacher with a wealth of experience.

Fuck.

He hated their case –

Not that it even _was_ a case, because in reality it was more a favor bundled their way by the mayor purely because his wife sat on the board of the school and because the pretentious academy with its uniforms and privilege had been evidently receiving threats from a former employee.

Evidently the poor fucker had lost his shit some twelve months previous when he had begun tearing things up in the middle of class and he blamed the bratty students for his loss of mental faculties and then _further_ blamed the principal for not supporting him enough and both of which honestly were totally valid pointers that the copper blonde could certainly see his take on now he was there.

Because the students _were_ unbearable little bastards –

But threatening to blow them up was a step way too far and was why their mayor had come cap in hand to them and pleaded with them to solve things the way only they knew best and was why they had come up with the _brilliant_ solution that _he_ become a teacher so that they could then keep an eye on things.

Ugh.

Dean was not cut out for shaping young minds.

But he stepped back to the chair and then blew out a breath before pausing beside it and then looking it over for possible hints of some other genius prank, like maybe an air horn strapped to the mechanism or loose bolts from where they had pulled out a crucial part, but instead it seemed normal and so he lowered himself carefully waiting for tragedy.

Nope.

It seemed absolutely fine.

He blinked up sharply at a titter of buried laughter from the handful of kids who had been watching his seat based nerves and who clearly thought the whole thing was hilarious. He barked at them sharply in harsh tones,

"Eyes on your work."

" _Geez man, kinda sound like the real thing when you say that_."

"Freakin' tell me about it," Dean hissed back and then leaned into his chair and picked a heavy book up which was one of the ones the pretty blonde had passed across and was supposed to be a composite on making plans for lessons but might as well have been written in Dutch for all he understood.

His brothers meanwhile filled him in on their research through the lifesaving earpiece.

" _So we checked out the guy's home,"_ Roman started evenly, " _Looks like he hasn't been there for a while now, which means that he's probably trying to lie low somewhere._ "

" _Figure he probably knows we're onto him,"_ Seth took over, " _So he's found himself a place he can hole up and make his bomb, if this isn't some weird hoax call for help or something because honestly I'm so not on board with him being a real threat, I mean come on, we've all seen him._ "

Dean knew what that meant.

Because in terms of hardened criminals their suspect was not one.

In fact he looked pretty much the opposite of that, in that he looked like the teacher of a bunch of thankless bratigans, with his slicked back brown wavy hair and his pointed features and the tiny wisp of chin fluff that was likely meant to be a beard and the look of which was finished by a pinstriped shirt and waistcoat combo, not to mention skinny pants which made his legs look like lollipop sticks.

Brad Maddox.

He was fucked up sure, but an expert bombmaker? It seemed pretty unlikely but then the threats had been real enough and thanks to the infinite bounties of the internet it was possible to find instructions to make pretty much anything and so therefore their team wasn't taking any chances.

Not when there were kids at risk anyhow.

Really really bratty little hell kids.

Dean cleared his throat and then looked over at the students who had their heads lowered in towards their reluctantly scribbled work and then turned himself towards the screen of his computer before hushing his voice to little more than mumbled tones,

"Anything outside?"

He meant on their surveillance feeds and in response he heard their tech man briefly tapping at the keys, like he was flicking between them rapidly,

" _Nope_."

"So how long are we meant to sit here?"

" _For as long as it takes babe, because that's how we work_."

Damn.

Roman was right and besides which for the most part playing the long con was nothing that bothered him too much, but there was something about the school that was rubbing him up wrong and which was likely because he was surrounded by tweens who might as well have been a new _species_ for him.

Particularly since he had never been the type of person to feel the need to fit in with his peers and had never needed or wanted to be traditionally popular like everyone else in existence clearly had and so therefore meant that he hadn't understood teens even back when he had _been_ one.

He had no freaking hope now.

Besides which his own education had been patchy and his school career was nothing that he looked back fondly on, since in spite of his brains his teachers had flaked out and figured that thanks to the holes in his sneakers and his thrift store clothing that he was another lost cause and so teen Dean had been forced to work a hell of a lot harder and had been beaten up a hell of a lot more as a result.

Fuck school man.

Fuck his _teachers_ because he had _become_ something –

He had brothers and a career.

But hell if being back in a classroom environment wasn't playing some sort of merry hell with his head and in response to it he lifted his hand up without knowing it and began to scratch his nails hard over the back of his neck.

" _Babe_?"

"Huh?"

" _Is that your hand I can hear with the scratching_?"

Dean let it fall away swiftly,

"Nope."

" _Sure_."

Beyond him in the room there was little to pick up on but the sound of contentedly scratching expensive ballpoint pens and looking up over the kids revealed tongues poked out in focus and handwritten pages that were fast filling up, as the pack of stunted brats worked away pretty hard for him and which briefly made him feel a stab of pride for them.

Crap.

Maybe they weren't such horrible things after all.

Pushing himself away from the screen of the computer that he had spent nearly a week pretending he knew how to use, he moved to stand up and cancel their harsh punishment because it seemed like the reasonable and mature path to take — and besides which he figured they had maybe learnt their lesson that he was a hard ass that would keep them in check — but instead however of the wheels propelling him backwards across the thinly laid floor, the back of his chair broke suddenly loose and he somersaulted over with his legs up vertical and then thudded into the wall to screams of laughter.

Bastards.

Every damn one of them.

" _Dean? Hey man, are you okay, what just happened_?"

Dean clambered back onto his feet holding his cranium, which had bounced off the brickwork so was thumping pretty hard but which matched in neatly with his pulsating heartbeat which was honestly about to blow clean from his chest and explode in furious blood splatters over them all.

He spluttered in fury at then,

"You took out the screws?"

" _Shit_."

" _Did you hurt yourself babe_?"

In normal situations where someone beneath him was pushing their luck he would have pulled loose his gun and then used the carefully trained point of its barrel to underline the message that _he_ was the one in charge, but since he was supposed to be a middle school teacher and was staring at thirteen year olds that option had been lost.

Right?

His fingers twitched at his waistband all the same though and not for the first time he spared their poor suspect a thought, because it was no fucking wonder that the feller had turned psychotic having to work with such a heinous pack of brats and who had probably tipped over and sat his ass on more fart cushions than was humanly possible.

Dean was on his side and was less than three seconds from bellowing his sentiments over the laughter still bubbling loud in the room when suddenly the lot of them were starkly interrupted by the high pitched screaming of the fire bell.

What the fuck?

Instantly he could the keyboard tapping through the earpiece as the littlest of his brothers pulled the many camera feeds up and then used his prowess to track the location,

" _Shit, the button was triggered in the lunchroom_."

"Okay, so plan here?"

" _Get the kids out and we'll look into it_."

"But – ,"

" _Dean, take those children and get the hell outta there_."

In the background the copper blonde could hear the creak of the van hinges as his teammates took their handguns and hurriedly piled out, which meant that the both of them were away from their tech equipment and so therefore had left him out of contact and on his own.

He huffed out a breath of borderline sullenness at having to skip the potential guns and action part, but then blinked in surprise as he suddenly realized that twenty four faces were peering back his way but looking a little bit frightened by the sirens like maybe they were nervous.

Fuck.

Dean clapped his hands,

"Okay then, so listen up here hell spawn we need to take this nice an' easy y' hear? So no freakin' out or bawlin' an' that shit because probably somebody knocked the alarm by mistake here is all, but until we know for sure we have to pull our freakin' socks up, so I need a straight line in three seconds startin' like, _now_."

 _Bang._

 _Crash_.

In response to his instructions chairs were scraped back at a million miles an hour and thrown into the tables in front of them and behind them as the kids scrambled hastily to form a neat queue, before blinking up at him with such a wealth of expectation that he was suddenly reminded that they were babies after all and that when their world became suddenly unexpected they still needed reassurance.

He felt protective of them.

Crap.

"Nice, real nice people, lookin' pretty freakin' straight there, so now how 'bout we blow this joint for a little bit, huh? But nice an' easy though, we're not a bunch 'a animals so we're not shovin' an' pushin' an' that means you at the freakin' back."

Leading them from the room he turned in the hallway and then momentarily lost his bearings a little bit, because he had never worked out how to traverse the endless floor tiles without becoming pretty hopelessly lost, only this time he had thirty kids trapped behind him and no teammates in his earhole to help successfully lead him round.

Hell.

Dean stepped off in the way he thought felt right and was rewarded by the sounds of noises up in front which he figured had to be more classes ahead of them and so he sped up to catch them hoping to trail them fully out. He turned his head as he increased the pace a little, making sure that his kids were still trotting behind and then rapidly counted to make sure he hadn't lost one since that would have been a pretty poor freaking start.

Luckily however all twenty four were following.

He was the best teacher ever.

Not that he _needed_ to be because he was ninety percent sure that the fire bell was a fluke thing, since his teammates had been watching the cameras the whole time and so for their potential bombmaker to have slipped onto the premises he must have been pretty phenomenally fast and _besides_ which why would he have set the alarms off?

Nope.

It was a fluke.

It freaking _had_ to be a fluke.

"Keep up pipsqueaks, m' not turnin' this ship around y' hear?"

Dean took a corner beside a brace of tall red lockers but then pretty instantly skidded to a halt, because a wave of heat and noise hit him bodily and made him both swear and skitter back barking _fuck._ He piled into the first few students trying to match pace with him, who then _also_ stopped and created a teenager backlog but which the copper blonde barely noticed since he was looking at the fire.

By which he meant the freaking _inferno_ which was throwing out heat like they were stood on a beach which _happened_ to be beneath a molten volcano, because the temperature was so hot his face was starting to burn, but in spite of which he could _not_ look away from because the scene was too bizarre.

It was intentional.

He knew that much

Partly because the licking and cracking flame wall only seemed to be burning in a line across the hall, like someone had purposefully cut off their escape route and which was further underlined by what he could smell, since the tang of fuel was hung thick in the corridor and so had probably been poured there before being set alight.

Beyond him there were students and classes rushing for safety but he and his kids were trapped like that had been the point and the knowledge of it fed a bolt of sudden purpose clean through him and triggered his police officer responses hard, because shit had officially hit the fan in a big way and so therefore it was his role to keep everyone safe.

Right.

He spun back towards the students bunched up behind him who were beginning to scream and predictably freak out as they blundered round the corner and into the inferno which was cutting off the path between themselves and the outside world.

He bellowed above them,

Whoa, hey now take it easy, m' a need you all to back now 'kay – back it up – nothin' to worry 'bout, we just need a new exit but we're totally fine."

Dean rapidly scanned his brain and tried to think back to his bewildering first morning when the beautiful blonde teacher had been showing him around and when, because he was a pervert had had been hanging two steps behind her watching her ass move in her pencil thin skirt and then looking to the heavens in apology to his fiancé but at the same time knowing she would have totally understood.

 _Hell yeah man, she's a beautiful looking woman_.

He remembered her having said something like that to him before, when some long leggy brunette had run by them in the park once and he had looked and then felt like a total freaking hound, but which she had shrugged off with a flap of her manicure.

Fuck he missed her.

Focus –

Fucking fire.

Distantly he remembered his orientation having taken them past the hall which let out to the basketball courts and so was therefore their best chance at finding a way out. Dean turned on his heel and then pushed back through the children who were crying in horror or half rooted to the spot and who he had to bellow at over the fire wall which was crackling and hissing surprisingly loud.

"Everyone behind me, c' mon, keep together."

He felt some tiny fingers slip into his hand and looked round to find himself being clung to by a tweener who had long black hair and thick spectacles on, which were starting to steam from her terrified crying and who he instantly helped soothe by sweeping back her bangs.

Roman had seemingly rubbed off on him totally,

"Hey, take it easy."

"Mister Moxley we're trapped."

"Nah, c' mon kid, plenty 'a ways outta here, what's important right now is keepin' good an' calm 'kay?"

"Uh huh."

"That's it kiddo."

Dean tapped on his earpiece as he shot her a fake but hopefully reassuring smile, because he needed his brothers to be back on their surveillance tech helping to led his freaking kids out, but which fuelled his worry further because instead there was silence and it made his stomach turn because what had they found and what had happened when they had hit the cafeteria and why had they not bust in to find him and help him out?

Looking over his shoulder to check his class was still with him, he led them through the slowly smoke thickening hall and tried to forget how much they were coughing, but which probably wasn't helped by how terrified they were.

He barked at them,

"Keep low, the smoke will rise up first, an' breathe through your noses."

Dean turned the corner of the hall which then took them into a similar length of floor tiles but ones that he remembered from his earlier tour and that he knew for a fact turned a couple more left handers before leading them towards the exit he striking out for and which made him blow a long and hugely thankful breath out.

Finally his luck was turning –

But then something hit him on the head. From behind and from practically right out of nowhere, which battered his skull and sent him onto his kneecaps.

 _Crack_.

He crashed into a locker with his blue eyes blinking blackness peppered at the sides by collections of bright stars and backed up by the sudden loud thumping that had taken up residence like a mariachi band. It tapered off rapidly into the sounds of shrill screaming and crying and bawling which wasn't so rhythmic.

Huh?

Dean looked up and then promptly wished he hadn't –

Brad Maddox was stood before him bearing his teeth wildly and with a look in his eyes that came with a total break, but which was honestly about the freaking _least_ of his problems, because in shoving the copper blonde man into the lockers he had snatched up the black-haired bespectacled kid and then pulled her back towards him with a knife to her clavicle.

Fuck.

Maddox smelt powerfully of petroleum and burnt fibres with a hint of mental breakdown thrown in for a little spice, but the perfume of which made the copper blonde stumble upright while pulling loose his weapon in a single practised move,

"Let her go fucker."

He was nothing if not eloquent, but then briefly forgot the twenty three remaining kids stood behind who began to scream and suck in breaths for multiple reasons, from the cussing to the sudden firearm to their poor pinioned friend, who was being held hostage by a man that some months earlier had been teaching them passive phrases and boring synonyms.

Maddox blinked,

"Wha – ,"

"I'm a cop an' a pretty freakin' pissed one at this point, so when I say let her go you better know I mean it man."

 _Roar_.

Dean had been using his best badass police tones which practically spilt from his mouth as a hiss and tended to make those he was levelling commands at think twice about the poor life choices they had made and so therefore was expecting a similar reaction from the teacher stood nervously holding the blade.

But instead however the screw loose man merely snorted like he couldn't believe his recent run of bad luck and then shook his head so that his lush brown waves bounced lightly, but not a whole lot since they had been smothered in heavy mousse and so therefore represented the only stable thing about him with the hopeful exception of maybe his hand.

Maddox frowned,

"Hold on, I send the school a bomb threat and they only post _one_ of you?"

"Uh – ,"

"Do they _still_ not take me seriously?"

"Look man – ,"

"This place _broke_ me and I need them to see that."

He pressed the knife in a little bit closer and the poor nerdy kid who was held in his clutches hauled in a breath which was so panicky it freaking _squeaked_ and made her wide eyes blink through the thick bottle cap lenses as she looked tearfully to the copper blonde for salvation.

Kid wanted out.

Behind them the fire was beginning to creep closer, which he could tell by the intensifying barrage of heat and the sounds of crashing as the lockers began to buckle and then loudly fall flat and every last noise of which made the students cry harder because with each passing second that they were caught in the standoff, the flames were creeping in and their exits were closing fast.

He needed to act –

He needed to act _quickly_ and so to that end held his weapon up and then tried a new approach, because honestly his options were pretty freaking limited and so too was their time and their resources and clean air.

"Listen man, there's not one of me okay, there's three of us – ,"

"Is that it?"

Brad Maddox concertinaed up his face like instead he had hoped for an entire phalanx of lawman as bodily proof that his words had been heard and that his breakdown and the implosion of his life and his future had sent shockwaves through the faculty and also city hall, because no longer was the psychopath prepared to be forgotten.

Dean could help on that one,

"Hey, there might only be three of us, but we're the freakin' best man – ,"

"Is that so?"

"Damn straight pal, because we're the fuckin' Shield."

"What's that?"

Dean blinked in horror because how in the world could he not know who they were or not read about their exploits and bravery in the papers since both the mayor and the commissioner liked to keep them in the press, albeit in blurred photos and with secret identities but the team at _least_ the bastard should have known.

In response to the pretty wounding cluelessness however the copper blonde simply bit hard on his lip and then centred back the barrel of his trusted nine millimetre at a point on the nose underneath the brown hair, which he probably could have taken and made a near perfect shot of but which he no _way_ wanted his frightened students to have to watch.

Damn it.

"Let her go man or I swear to fuckin' _betsy_ – ,"

But he was halted by tall flames starting to lick around the bend and the heat of which then warped the wide open classrooms to the point where the glass in the windows burst out, in a brutal explosion of fragments and embers which brought terrified screams and made banks of lockers collapse.

 _Boom._

 _Crash_.

Brad Maddox looked round in startlement and the copper blonde took that split moment to make his move, which he started with a headfirst tackle towards the psychopath that propelled both the teacher and the spectacled kid back, but which he then followed up by snatching a hand out and latching it firm to the knife-holding wrist which he forced from the throat and then hard into the brickwork in a repeated thumping motion to loosen up the fist.

In response to being freed the little nerd kid stumbled back from them, probably hoping to be reunited with her friends but all of whom were busy choking on the smoke fumes or else were too horrified to even much move. The copper blonde needed to hustle them to safety, but he couldn't because he was tussling with a pinstriped loon who in spite of not matching him in height or in muscle mass was working on insanity which made him freakishly strong.

Maddox planted a kneecap right up into his ballsack –

"Fuck."

Dean blew the barked word out super hard and then felt himself bend forward in instinct as he battled to keep his hand pinning back the raised up knife and his eyes on the flames that were beating a path closer as they blitzed through the school and towards his freaking kids.

He needed a plan.

But then a voice bellowed out at him nasally and beautiful above the burning sounds,

" _Dean_."

Blue orbs looked up from beneath his sweaty hairline and towards the far end of the smoke filled tiled hall, where two bulky figures were pounding towards him followed by the slower but similarly purposeful hot mathematics blonde who had obviously volunteered to head up the search party and who burst towards the students with a gasp of pure relief.

His brothers meanwhile were honed in on him entirely and on seeing him caught in the middle of a fistfight they instantly moved to pull their firearms loose, but were stopped by the copper blonde bellowing at them in tones that broke out over the inferno,

"Get the kids."

"Uce – ,"

"I'm fine, but they need outta here, so take 'em already."

Dean lifted his knee and then rose it high into the stomach of the teacher who had caused both the blaze and his testicular pain, which succeeded in blowing the breath bodily out of Maddox as the copper blonde kept repeatedly smashing back the hand, pounding it over and over into the brickwork until the knuckles looked bloodied and the fingers sprang back which finally sent the knife thudding to the floor tiles with a happy little clatter that the lawman thanked fuck for.

Maddox bellowed at him,

"No, no they ruined everything, they took my career from me – ,"

"They're freakin' _kids_ man."

Brad was throwing up his hands in frustration and then windmilling them hard so that they struck him on the back and which meant that while the teacher was by no means a trained brawler, by throwing so many punches he was successfully making hits. Dean was actually being forced into protection mode as he held the man back while the students were hustled past, by both of his brothers and the blonde maths hottie who swept them towards her with motherly love.

Dean waited a beat and then threw his own punch out which he loaded with fury.

It connected –

Freaking _hard_.

Propelled by the knuckles of the well trained lawman, the brown hair of coiffed hair blasted violently back and then bounced off the brickwork and the corner of a locker which made the wild eyes roll up then snap shut as consciousness faded from the paranoid psychopath whose limp body then promptly slid towards the earth,

"Whoa – ,"

Dean bent low and swooped in beneath the armpits before fastening over the waistcoat covered breast, because even though the man was a total fucking lunatic he was not prepared to leave him to be burnt to a crisp since he needed to stand trial then find a padded cell somewhere if the copper blonde could even manage successfully haul him out.

In the course of their brawling the fire had moved closer to the point that it was practically nibbling their feet and the heat of which was so freaking unbearable that Dean's sweat soaked shirt had basically moulded to his flesh, as had his pants in a sticky cloying tangle that made moving problematic and uncomfortable as hell.

Dean began reversing.

Ridiculously slowly and maybe _too_ slowly because the windows on either side of him were starting to blow. He lowered his head into his collar instinctively and then barked as the shards fell in over them both, forcing him to clamp his blue orbs shut protectively but which _then_ hindered their escape because he bumped into shit.

His skin was prickling.

His throat was feeling scratchy and the air was too thin.

"Babe?"

Hands landed on his waist and he started in surprise before turning towards the features that had blossomed from the smoke to hang in close to his own. They were thick and square set but totally welcome because his older of his ever present brothers was there,

"Ro – ,"

He coughed and instantly the bigger man swept past him to heft the legs of their knocked out patient up, so that between them his limp form was easier to carry and which took some of the pressure from the weary copper blonde. Dean was beginning to feel a little weak in the knee area but he powered on through because it was no time to pass out and to make that even clearer Roman then boomed at him,

"Got him babe, come on now, couple more turns and we're out of here."

Right.

Between them they hustled in a clumsy run from the inferno and past the warping lockers to the end of the hall where the billowing smoke seemed to clear a very little and from where familiar tones were barking frantically at them and beckoning them in through a high vaulted area that the undercover man noted blearily was the gym, which meant that the bright piercing light somewhere beyond them where their brother was calling from was therefore probably the outside.

Dean burst out into the sunlight backwards and then crumpled to his knees.

He was coughing up a storm.

Brad Maddox toppled and fell back hard onto his shoulders as the bodily hold was largely whipped away, but luckily the man was still out from the head knock and so beyond a potential migraine he was never to know and besides which the copper blonde was spluttering and wheezing badly and frankly couldn't have held him a moment longer if he'd tried.

Fresh air.

 _Fuck_.

Fresh air was so beautiful.

Hands fell on top of his shoulder blades and held him before pulling him back up and onto his feet, in a way that implied his little brother was behind him, trying to hustle him further back from the smoke plumes which were floating like clouds from inside the blazing school. Seth chose to lead his ministering with a bellow which he issued way too loudly,

"Hey man, are you alright?"

Dean nodded back,

"Yeah."

His tones sounded scratchy but then for the most part they usually were and so neither of them freaked out too wildly about that part even though the smaller man continued to fuss,

"How much did you inhale?"

"M' fine."

"Babe – ," Roman slipped in too looking a little fire smudged but otherwise intact and much like his teammate moving instantly into worry mode which the copper blonde then too felt lance through his bones, because where in the hell were his bratty little students and were they all out and were they all safe? Especially the one who had been held at knifepoint?

He spun on his heel suddenly and then blew out a breath.

"Huh."

Behind him on the lush verge sloping off towards the field track, the twenty four kids were stood clustered in a ball, which was filled with the sounds of hysterical teenage weeping and looked blackened with ash and soot but was together and out and so therefore meant that the mission was completed with no real tragedies. Well, with the exception of school which Dean was pretty sure would benefit in no time from a fundraiser thrown by the mayor and his super wealthy wife.

"Whoa — ,"

He let himself slump and was caught by their tech man who moved in pretty swiftly to straighten him back up but was still in the process of trying to make happen when a tiny little black haired kid split away from the class and sprinted towards him with a shriek of elation beneath misted up spectacles,

" _Mister Moxley's out_ – ,"

In a flash the whole class was pelting over the concrete in a sea of blazers and happy little barks which threatened to wash over the copper blonde and completely, but instead simply enveloped him in a bundled student hug which made his brothers step back with wry sounding chuckles as children moved in to the fill in their spots and wrapped tiny thankful little arms around their teacher who wasn't a teacher but instead was a cop.

Each of them was speaking at once,

"That was _so_ cool – ,"

"Have you had a gun in the school this _whole time_?"

"Can you teach _me_ how to knock someone unconscious?"

"I'm sorry we put a whoopee cushion in your seat and took out screws."

"Uh – ,"

Dean blinked back in response to the bombardment because he honestly had no clue how to respond or what to say, _or_ what the official school guidelines had to say about a madman had trying kill them and blow the place up.

Nuzzled in closest was the spectacle wearer who had her little cheek pressed in flat to the front of his shirt and instinctively he moved to smooth her long frazzled hair back, which then warmed him to the bundle a little more than he would have liked, because rough tough type policeman were _not_ supposed to be huggers and especially not with snot nosed kids.

He cleared his throat,

"Hey, come on now, back it up a little."

But each of them stayed resolutely where they were and when he blinked up at his two smiling brothers it was hard to hide his own relieved looking beam, because not only had things turned out semi successfully but he had also managed to cement his hero status which he figured was by no means a terrible thing.

It even made him puff himself up with pride a little.

But best of all –

Dean Ambrose would never have to teach again.

* * *

 **Next week Dean stops to help a damsel in distress, which works out super well, or, yeah, maybe not...**


	27. Death By Desert

**Okay, so I wrote this one back when my mum was undergoing chemotherapy and I just needed to write. This popped into my head and off I went. It kind of follows how I was feeling at the time. I needed something angsty and unfair but with some feels in it as well, so this is what I ended up with. Maybe a bit more wordy than my usual, but the brain writes what it wants and especially when it's stressed!**

 **Sodapop25, Why thank you kindly.**

 **Cherry619, Agreed, Dean doesn't want it to seem like he cares right away. He needs to let everyone in the vicinity know he's not happy first and** _ **then**_ **he** _ **might**_ **admit he cares about things. Children included. Lucky Seth and Roman knows he's actually a big softie. He's too cute!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Aww, thanks, much obliged!**

 **Cheryl24, Nope, as always, everyone in this universe is a WWE employee of some form, so expect another cameo in this one, or maybe even two!**

 **Minnie1015, Brad just dressed like a teacher in my books and reminded me of a couple of teachers from school, fresh out of university and trying to be cool (happy times!) But kids can be incredibly brutal, so that had to go in there too. Of course, usually their teachers have no means to shoot them. I love making Dean all grumbly and ranty!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Well, Dean is the undercover man, so he goes undercover! Thems the rules in this universe! As for the blonde teacher, Dean is incredibly faithful to his dearly departed girl. But he is still a man and men look and react to women whether they can help it or not (usually not!) Dean is a guy after all!**

 **Skovko, Ohhhh yeah. Teenagers can be the worst. We had a teacher at school who had a hearing aid, so people (not me, I was a good kid) used to take it in turns either whispering or shouting so she spent the whole lesson turning the volume up and down. She wasn't a very nice teacher, but still…kids are cruel!**

 **HannonsPen, Agreed, I can just imagine him standing at the front of the class being all twitchy and scruffy and randomly swearing and then swearing some more about having just sworn. Teenage me would have been totally smitten! I went to an all girls' school so any male teacher was swooned over hard! P.S. Thanks for the side note on my descriptions! Yay!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Haha, well, Brad Maddox never gets enough love in my books! Plus he has geography teacher written all over him! You are very welcome for grudging-but-not-really-undercover-teacher-Dean. I couldn't resist the image of him casually swearing at a bunch of children, what can I say?!**

 **Rebel8954, Ooh, you brave substitute teacher you. Kids are the worst with substitutes, because they totally push it. Like, 'miss usually lets us leave five minutes early on a Friday.' Etc. We have one very sweet, ancient maths substitute who fell for them all! But we liked him so we never sabotaged his chair (just as well, we probably would have broken bones!)**

 **Mandy, I know how you feel about the mood thing. Been rough for me too, but gotta keep moving onwards and upwards and plugging away at it. Glad you feel better. Teacher Dean was so much fun to write! Especially with Seth and Roman laughing at him (not with him) the whole way too! I feel like Dean would be inadvertently comforting to the kids without even realizing it. He's too cute not to be a sweetie!**

 **Right, Dean trying to do something nice, here we come…**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Death By Desert**

Dean pulled the car to a standstill on the asphalt as the skimpily clad woman stepped into the road and then lowered the window as she hustled towards him with her fingers tucked together in a clasp handed begging mime,

"Oh my goodness, thank you so much for stopping."

"There a problem or somethin'?"

He winced at his voice which was scratchier even than _he_ was used to it being on account of his not having spoken in so long, with the exception of having tried to bellow in time to Motorhead before the radio had crackled then fully faded out _and_ not counting the call to his brothers four hours before to say his flight had been scrapped, so he had rented a car and was heading their way slowly. But following which had been nothing at all, beyond tapping at the steering wheel and watching the barren landscape.

"I'll say."

Beside him the woman leaned in closer so that the top of her camisole hung perilously low, which flaunted the mounds of her breasts and then the rest of her until the copper blonde could even see her _bellybutton_.

"Uh – ,"

"The piece of crap thing straight up and stopped working."

Dean blinked a little then looked up from the cleavage much like he was coming round from some type of trance, before realizing the woman was speaking right at him and so clumsily replying with a syllable or two,

"I – huh?"

"My stupid car, over there."

Blue eyes followed her hand wave and then landed on a rust bucket pulled over to one side, with the hood popped up like she had maybe tried to fix it before resorting instead to trying to hail a passing car. Dean briefly looked the woman over a second time, but in a curious flicker which was both easier and safe since the woman had stopped bending low in towards him and which revealed her to be probably near his own age and of medium height with lightly curled red tresses which flowed past a sharp nose and high cheekbones with hazel eyes and a smearing of pink lipstick which she then turned towards him with a look of sheer hope,

"Can you maybe take a look?"

"Uh – ,"

"Please?"

"I'm not an expert."

"But you wouldn't leave me standing in this sun on my own in the middle of nowhere would you?"

Dean winced mildly.

Crap.

Honestly the woman made a pretty valid argument, because even though the clock hands had barely hit late morning the heat and the mercury were beginning to rise, to the point where anyone stuck out there without fresh water or a place to take cover would know about it in record time. Besides, he was a cop, so he kind of _had_ to help her, since otherwise it would have made a mockery of his badge and on top of that the woman was totally helpless which had triggered his internal but mostly hidden white knight side. He blew a short breath out and threw his hands from the steering wheel,

"Sure, what the hell."

"Oh wow, thank you so much."

"But m' not promisin' anythin' an if I somehow make things worse here then you better not freakin' sue me."

"I cross my heart promise not."

Dean responded with a wry little mumble then watched her step backwards to let him pull up off the baked road, wondering to himself what in the hell he was thinking because while he could _steer_ them he knew nothing about cars and so was therefore either liable to embarrass himself completely or potentially even somehow blow the both of them up, but neither of which thought seemed to have troubled the woman who cantered in towards him and put out a hand the second he reluctantly turned the keys and clambered out,

"Maria."

"Say again?"

"That's my name – _oooh_ nice strong hands – who are you then?"

"Uh, I'm Dean."

He swallowed pretty hard because the woman in front of him was bubbly and perky and socially adept and so was therefore a breed of human he had limited experience with and basically always had with the exception of _her_. Because she alone had been able seen through his kookiness and make him feel comfortable being himself.

 _Her_.

Dean blinked in a rapid fire bubble of panic, then shucked the hand from his fingers super fast, like somehow the touch was a traitorous movement, before using his battered pant fronts to swipe the sweat from his hot palms. He then stepped in towards the hood of the vehicle in the pretence he would know in an instant what had bust and even threw in a little cavalier sentence above a brief coughing fit,

"So, it just stopped workin' huh?"

"I'm not sure what happened, one minute I was moving and the next thing, well, _nothing_ – ,"

"Hmmm, lemme see here."

Hunkering himself in low towards the workings the copper blonde fleetingly looked at his watch and then winced a little as he pictured his brothers pacing their hotel room waiting for his ass to pitch up, because each second of which was another one wasted and another night potentially spent away from their homes in the scorching hot cesspool that was their freaking sister city and the place where their boss' boyfriend ruled the hot tin roost. Hence why on occasion they found themselves loaned out to him like mercenaries for hire or else a well-thumbed magazine.

"God damn it – ,"

Dean blew out the words in frustration and in response to him the woman leaned herself in a little more which flattened her breasts over the brake fluid reservoir and then threw him completely,

"Oh no, is something wrong?"

"I – uh, nope."

"Oh."

He sounded like a lunatic which became more apparent in the way she then backed up and so to help enforce the fact that he was _not_ in fact a psychopath, he bent in a little lower and started pulling at wires like he was testing them out and in total control of things, while at the same time trying to make his scratchy tones light as he tried to explain why in the fuck he was so nutso,

"Uh, sorry 'bout that."

"Um – ,"

"I was thinkin' 'bout work stuff an' it made me all _heated_ ,"

"Do you work locally?"

"Uh – no."

"So what is it that you do then?"

Dean paused momentarily with one hand on a piece of tubing he had christened _the bit_ and which he had loosely been turning over like he was purposefully unscrewing it but which had turned out to be pretty immovably fixed so that instead he was forced to simply keep on turning it over in a full bodied sham of mechanical prowess.

Not that it was _his_ fault that he was hopeless at mechanics, because there had never been a man in his life to teach that stuff, or to talk to him for hours about pistons and wankels like his brothers had spent time learning from their respective old men and which was then probably why _his_ ass was their scruffy undercover man and the other two were the normal ones that provided backup.

Not that he could tell any of _that_ to the buxom woman since their covert police team was very much a secret one,

"Travelin' salesman, vacuums."

"Oh."

"How 'bout you?"

"I have, um, let's a couple of things I'm into."

Dean could hear the woman slowly moving herself back but since her light tones were still loose and chirpy he figured that she was probably leaving space to let him work, which therefore meant that his pretend mechanic hoopla was obviously convincing her that he had some basic skill and not wanting to slip and reveal his novice status he kept on chattering and pulling at random bits,

"You live round here? Well not _here_ exactly 'cos this part is kinda barren and dangerous, but – ,"

He stopped suddenly.

Huh?

Cold hard metal was biting at his cranium in the form of a barrel point, which he figured more than likely had a bullet lodged within it and which was nestled within his hairline at the base of his head and which made his stomach then flip fully over because _holy crap_ was being held up.

But who the fuck by?

Carefully Dean turned his head in a little motion which was barely any use but revealed one side of a thick built man and the booted right foot of what was clearly his mugger, which was then confirmed as a voice snapped out in _not_ female tones,

"Don't move, put your hands up, nice and slow where I can see them."

Dean flinched.

Damn.

Did he _ever_ have bad luck? Because who in the hell else would have been mugged by the roadside in the middle of nowhere, with nobody else around for miles, with the exception of the woman whose car he was bent over and who was probably cursing her own unlucky break, since if anyone was having a worse hour than he was it was totally her.

His lawman hat fell into place and pushing back the tumbling cascade of frustration and string the of heated cuss words he was bellowing inside, he sucked in a breath and tried to keep a cool head because he needed to remember to play things nice and calm.

Slowly he raised his hands up in obedience,

"Whoa, hey, go easy man, take whatever you want,"

"I want your car."

"You want – huh?"

"Hand the keys over."

Dean felt the barrel press harder through his hairline, to the point that it forced him in closer to the engine as he scrabbled in the folds at the back of his pants and then fished loose the clinking collection of metal that he passed over his shoulder somewhat blindly,

"Fuckin' here."

"Now your cell phone,"

"Oh c' mon – ,"

"Don't make me repeat things, I don't like to be ignored."

Behind him the mugger shuffled his feet on the ground tersely, like the limits of his patience were fast to wear out and which made Dean bite back a hiss then clench his teeth hard, because had they been alone he could have thrown his arm back and knocked the firearm away from his brainstem, but with the woman stood nearby it seemed too dangerous to risk.

Instead he simply growled,

"They're in my back pocket,"

 _Asshat_.

Not that he chose to verbalize that part and which was probably for the best since the mugger was still angry, which was possibly from the heat or else was how he was in life.

"Get it out of there for him and hurry up about it."

"Hey – ,"

Dean frowned as the super clipped tones of the attacker swung in towards the woman whose car had blown up and whose lithe little fingers then fumbled over his ass cheeks as she pulled loose his cell phone and his wallet and his badge. Weirdly though her own voice then took on a note of horror as she flapped the leather case wide,

"Shit baby, this one's a cop."

Dean blinked.

Baby?

Building levels of comprehension washed in over him like an incoming flood, because not only was the way too busty woman _not_ helpless, but her clapped out car probably worked perfectly too. Dean had been suckered freaking hook and line and that thought was not a good one.

He snarled,

"You freakin' bitch."

"I told you I made money, but I never said _how_ though."

"Son of a mutherfuckin' – ,"

"Shut up and walk."

In response to a push between the shoulders from the boyfriend, the undercover lawman clumsily lurched up from the hood and then stumbled past the rust bucket back to his rental and his hands held high in front of him and being shadowed with every step. He was shunted again as he reached for the handle and then forced with the cold metal barrel towards the back, while the woman he had tried to help out from the roadside trotted beside them still clutching his badge,

"Baby, he's the law."

"We keep to the programme."

"But – ,"

"Trust me sweetie, it will all be okay."

Dean snorted at that but then was pulled to a halt roughly by the collar of his sweat prickled and loosely sloganed shirt whereupon he was permitted to turn around for the first time and look his total toolbag of a mugger in the face. Dean had been expecting to be met by a hard bitten criminal, but instead the man holding him had a _normal_ sort of look, which was scowling but otherwise not too battle hardened and which was topped by a carefully styled crop of red hair. It let the Dean know everything he needed to in a second and he snorted derisively,

"Chop an' shop."

"What?"

"Stealin' cars and sellin' them on, is that kinda your deal here?"

"Shut the hell up man."

Behind him the trunk popped up as the button was triggered with an unhappy clicking sound which was followed up by the man pushing the flap up a little more, but keeping the weapon point held up the whole time, because even though the man was not criminal _looking_ , nor was he a rookie or unpractised,

"Get in there."

"Huh?"

Dean blinked a little and then looked to the woman who was hovering a little but with a pout on her lips, which revealed a sudden harshness that hadn't been there five minutes earlier or else possibly _had_ but had been hidden away.

Bitch.

Dean shook his head back because no way in _hellfire_ was he clambering into the trunk of the car to let them spirit him off to wherever with no cell phone or anyone that even knew where he was. To make the point clearer he then scowled at the mugger with the full weight of his insolence and fully sounded the fact out,

"Nope."

"Get in the car – ,"

"Why not just leave me here man, I mean it's not like I can call the cops or anythin', right?"

" _Get the hell in_."

For a second or maybe longer – because making real choices had never really been his thing – the copper blonde considered simply planting his heels in and refusing to move even one more single step, banking on his belief that the couple before him were tool bags but not killers but then testing that to the extreme when the barrel of the handgun moved up to his forehead and pressed too hard into it with a furious hiss.

"Get in the damn trunk."

Fuck.

Dean put his hands out to prove to the guy that he was still not a threat and then let his thoughts briefly swing back to his brothers and them finding his bullet strewn body on the road and the confusion and horror and ruination of that moment which he could not let happen, _ever_.

"Alright man, alright, take it fuckin' easy will ya?"

"Get in the – ,"

"I know, I heard you the first two times already. Chill the fuck out."

The gun waved again and hauling a breath in and then pausing momentarily – because a part of him felt like he was totally batshit mad – he turned and then clambered into the trunk of the rental, which far from the most elegant looking of things since he was a lanky ass man at the best of times quite frankly and being kidnapped like hand luggage was freaking _not_ the best of times, but eventually he managed it by curling up foetally and then turning to look back up as the trunk lid slammed.

Aw crap.

But it was okay because he had a plan.

Sort of.

He would kick out the brake lights and then pop open the trunk before throwing himself out into a bush or something. Although that was the part of the plan he doubted most, because the hurling part would probably suck _biscuits_ or maybe break bones.

But it was still worth a try.

From beneath him the rental fired up with a purring and then pulled back out haltingly onto the heavily sun blitzed road and the motion of it made him frantically twist and pull up his feet up with difficulty before planting them on the trunk lid and hammering off a mule kick.

 _Bang_.

Nothing much happened, which was kind of a letdown but he figured it was probably down to teething faults and so therefore tried again and again over and over, battering the corner of the trunk like machinery until his body was trembling and he was covered in sweat, because _fuck_ it was hot and burning like a furnace, which made him feel muddle headed.

 _Bang, bang, bang_ , _bang_.

"Cut that out or I swear I'll make things worse for you."

"Screw you man."

Dean bit the words back but then couldn't be sure if they even fully carried because his throat was too hoarse from the unrelenting heat and so his words more than likely ended buried in the fabric. But bellowing them made him feel better at least as he kept on trying to batter hard at the brake lights while cursing the solidity of continental makes.

He needed to bust loose.

He had no other option because nobody knew where the fuck his ass was other than somewhere in the middle of the desert which spread out for miles on either side of the town, in a mixture of flat plains of parched looking scrubland with barren looking mountain peaks rising beyond.

Not that the things ever seemed to move closer or change remotely and instead remained just _there_ , flanking the peripherals like sentinels at all times or occasionally blowing out bits of loose shale to tumble free and coat the cracked and fissured landscape beyond them.

Hot –

It was _so_ freaking _hot_.

Dean could have murdered for a bottle of water or possibly a smoother car ride which would also have helped, since some time either hours or minutes since they had set off, the terrain turned bumpy like they had turned off the road and threw him into the lid of the trunk heavily and then slammed him hard into the seats again.

" _Fuck_."

In screeching to a halt he was once more thrown forwards, but the sound of the front locks clicking quickly made him brush that off, because maybe if he could somehow kick or heave the trunk lid open then maybe he could claw back some type of upper hand and so to that end he pressed his boot flat to the metal and then waited for the thunk of the bolts.

Wait for it –

 _Snap_.

Dean punched the lid with everything he had in him and was rewarded by it launching up and then hitting a bent in face, which promptly reeled backwards with a curse of pure startlement and one hand pressed to what looked like a newly bloodied nose.

"Crap."

Dean felt no sympathy for him.

He was too busy moving, in a haphazard twist back onto his knees and swiping at the sweat holding tight to his brow line as he opened the trunk fully and then prepared to leap out. His basic plan of action was to take out his mugger and then burgle back the freaking gun, since without his piece the man was likely harmless or else easy enough to take out one on one. Really the plan was pretty much faultless.

Except it wasn't the mugger that was holding the gun.

"Stop right now."

Huh?

Dean spun back frowning as the order was barked out in unexpectedly feminine tones and then fell like a boulder clean into his stomach because he knew in an heartbeat that he had speculated wrong and that his kidnappers had _again_ been one freaking step ahead of him.

He winced.

Yep.

It was the fucking _devil_ _woman_ that was armed and stood several paces back, which meant well out of lunge range as her redheaded partner rolled unhappily on the floor with both of his hands pressed over his nostrils as he tried to stem both the sudden bleeding and the shock. Dust and flecks of dried mud clung fast to his clothing as he painfully hauled himself back up and in response to the outnumbering and the look of pure fury, the copper blonde hesitantly put his hands back up.

Not that it helped,

"You son a _mutha_. I think you broke my fucking nose – ,"

"Fractured," Dean stressed like he thought it would help things. Instead though it only made the redhead more hot, so that he reached into the trunk and then tried to haul his captive free of it,

"Get out, get out here."

Dean came loose in a clumsy rush, since his legs were shaking from the banging and the temperature and because being _pulled_ loose made it hard to stay on his feet.

"Fuck."

His boots hit the floor but he then stumbled a little as the mugger shunted then him back several uneven feet, before putting out his hand like he was waiting for something but which seemed frankly impossible because Dean's pockets were bare. Besides, the two of them had already taken the better part of his belongings including his touted and much loved cop badge, so what the fuck else was the bastard expecting?

Dean threw his hands out to make that clear,

"Dude, what?"

"Hand over your watch."

"My – ,"

His heart flipped clean over as he looked towards the black links strapped to his wrist and the luminous face that was staring back up at him complete with an inbuilt thermostat and compass and the works.

Not that he particularly needed either feature, but _she_ had bought it for him because she thought it had looked cool and because he had been known to take off into the mountains and climb bluffs and trek hillsides to blow off a little steam. Frankly the watch had made him feel a true hiker and besides which the thing contained the fucking memories of her too and the way her face had like up like a firework when he had opened the box and first seen the thing. In fact she had nearly knocked over a candle in her haste to take it out and held him put it on his wrist and her pride in the present and the fact that he had loved it was one of the favorite recollections he had and was a picture he pulled up whenever he missed her or needed to remember the way she looked when laughed.

No way in fuck were they taking it from him and so Dean shook his head,

"Nope,"

"I said hand it over, _now_ ,"

"Well in that case then you'll have to fuckin' shoot me, because this stays where it is."

"Don't tempt me."

"Baby – ,"

In the corner of his vision he could see the firearm still pointing, but for the first time he noticed that it was trembling mildly too, like the busty woman holding it was too nervous to keep it upright or else keep her fingers from triggering a shot, which made him swallow because that was _not_ a good thought.

Briefly his mind went again to Seth and Roman and the looks on their faces on finding him shot up and the vision of which was so fucking brutal that he blew out a rumble and then snapped the watch off, before handing it out with a sudden spike of nausea because _fuck_ it was hard having to let the thing loose and especially to someone who then sullied its beauty the second his hand closed over it.

"I'll find you fucker – ,"

"Sure you will."

Dean glowered,

"Fuckin' _trust_ me, I'm comin' to take my watch back."

"If you make it out."

Huh?

Dean blinked in response and then clued into the unhappy feeling that was starting to shiver its way over his spine, like his conscious was beginning to tug at his shirt hem and point out something that was missing. That something was the road, which was so far off that he could no longer even _see_ it, or anything beyond the wide flat endless nothing that stretched out beyond them like a carpet on all sides, or like the landscape of some planet the three of them had crashed into.

Fuck.

They were planning on _leaving_ him there, which briefly seemed so much _more_ terrible than being shot at that he lowered his raised hands and then stepped after them,

"Hey, stop – ,"

 _Bang_.

Dean flinched as a bullet landed inches from his boot tip and then threw up a cloud of barren scorched earth, which exploded about three feet into the air right in front of him and the accuracy of which surprised the shit out of him. Unless the woman had been trying to blow his head loose, in which case he reserved the right to take that assessment back, because clearly the busty harridan was a _horrible_ sharpshooter. Dean blinked in horror at her once the smoke clouds had parted, then couldn't hold back the grumbled tones of pure hurt, which filtered out before he could stop them,

"I tried to fuckin' help you,"

"Well then that was your mistake."

Her eyes blinked back at him cool and unflinching as her bloody nosed boyfriend hobbled back towards his seat and then slid himself in with an unhappy mumble before slamming the hinges then blasting the rental back into life. Maria hastily slid in beside him but she turned to hang from the window as she did, with the firearm still pointed outwards as the car rolled away from him, back through the barren scrub and then well beyond his reach.

Dean swallowed heavily and then felt himself panic, because this time he really fucking _was_ in the lurch and the knowledge of that made him run after them bellowing,

"Hey, _hey_ , stop – ,"

Crap.

Crap and fucking _double_ crap.

Because the car kept on bumping its way over the landscape and charting a path through the billowing earth clouds as they struck out for what Dean assumed _had_ to be the highway, but with such a head of speed that within seconds they were gone, save for a tiny flint of metalwork on the horizon that then vanished completely.

He stopped running.

"Fuck."

Lifting a hand he swiped a loose bead of sweat off as it charted a trail over the crest of his cheek but then made him mildly freak out for a second because he was stranded and helpless and it was so fucking _hot_. Besides which how long has he been shut in the trunk for and what time was it? He couldn't even check since his watch had been nabbed, not to mention his car and his cell and the water bottle which had been rolling on the backseat all crystalline and fresh.

Nope.

New rule –

No thinking about water, since the more he thought about it the more thirsty he felt and so instead he turned his mind to the one thing that might help him or keep him from flaking out until the rescue squad turned up. Because they would at some point when his brothers became antsy and turned themselves to looking into where the hell he was, in maybe an hour, or even sooner knowing his teammates and the helicopter _brothering_ he relied on so much.

Instead he cast his mind back to a television show he had seen once. One of those crazy survivalist type ones, where they talked about being lost in a tropical jungle, or a blizzard or the desert more crucially for him.

Head coverings.

He blinked.

Head coverings had been a feature, because keeping his face and brain cool were important to staying alive and so too he remembered was covering his mouth over since precious levels of water were lost through the mouth, thanks to vapor and breathin and that shit.

Luckily he still had the hoodie he had been wearing when he had left home for the airport tied loosely round his waist, because back in his birth city the weather had been milder as the late spring had clung on to keep the summer burn back and so he rapidly shucked it and then tied it over his birds' nest like the least fashionable type of headwear ever known, but which instantly took some of the heat from his shoulders and cleared his brain a little.

Directions next.

Okay.

Naturally it would have been easier to figure with the _fucking inbuilt compass_ he had on his watch, but instead he sucked a breath in then blew it out through nose slowly before setting off for the point that he had last seen the car, since that seemed to him to be the likeliest option for finding a way back to civilization once more.

Stephanie.

Not surprisingly he blamed their boss entirely because he tended to blame her for a million varied things, which included bad weather and biblical plagues of locusts and only barely stopped short of hurricanes and rivers of blood.

But essentially, no thanks to their ballsy commissioner and her on-off romantic entanglement with Kurt, Dean, Seth and Roman had been offered to their sister city to help out with a sting that they had wanted to pull and which the police had hoped would flush out a wash of heroin and those that were preparing it and take them off the streets, but which the police had evidently not been much prepared to handle without help or without the input of their own bespoke team.

"Ouch, crap — ,"

He stumbled a little on a loose piece of mountain or sandstone or whatever in the hell the thing was, then booted it to one side and kept on plodding, trying hard to ignore his thick and parched feeling tongue which probably would happily have murdered someone for some water.

Oops.

Follow the rules man –

No fucking water or thirst talk.

Fine.

He was beginning to regret more and more by the minute that fact that he missed flying out with his boys, because the little old lady who had lived across the hall from him had fallen in the tub the night before they were booked in and had then banged the wall and screamed so loudly that he had taken his handgun over there thinking the woman was being robbed and had kicked his way in only to find her straight up crying and covered in water having likely bust her hip.

He had stayed in the hospital until her son had shown up to see her, but that had taken six hours since the kid had been out of town and so therefore Dean had been forced to cancel his freaking ticket and take a later flight out instead, which had kind of been fine until _that_ flight had aborted and had forced him into hiring a freaking rental car. Following which he had been mugged at fucking pistol point before being left to wither in the sun like a husk.

Christ.

How the hell long had he even been walking?

In lieu of his watch it was impossible to tell but the sun was still blazing over his head like an inferno based on which he figured that it had to be midday and so therefore he had maybe been trampling for an hour. Or perhaps less than that?

More?

He had no fricking clue.

But however long it _had_ been he seemed to have made it nowhere or maybe even _everywhere_ because it all looked the damn same. From the scrubby little bushes stuck up through the fissures, to the looming mountain peaks towering heavily up in front, which were playing their usual trick of never moving any closer, regardless of how steadily he planted his feet.

Over and over –

Over and over –

It hardly seemed possible that a place could be so hot and the more he thought about the sun blasting at him and the rays and the temperature the more he thought about his tongue, which then began to swell up and feel heavier and more frantic as it searched for water in the crevices of his mouth before coming up empty and hammering at his brainstem.

 _Need water._

 _Please._

Dean shook his head and fought it off, before letting his mind focus back on _her_ a second time, because she was the one thing and thought that kept him calm and so to that end he tried hard to picture her laughing or being kind of crazy like she could be out of the blue.

 _Her_.

Like the time she had sprayed cream all over him for no reason other than wanting to make him respond, or the week she had taken to hiding in random places before launching herself at him to test his reflexes out.

He could practically hear her calling his name softly, which timed itself perfectly with the crunch of his tired steps, to the point where it echoed so clearly and loudly back at him that he almost turned on instinct because it sounded like she was there.

 _Dean, Dean, Dean_.

"Shit."

He hissed out a curse word as he suddenly stumbled on the cracked and pitted earth and then fought back a hitch of pure and utter hot blooded panic because had he really been hearing her or had he made that shit up? In which case it meant that he was maybe hallucinating, which even _he_ knew was a terrible sign because it meant the lack of water was beginning to screw with him beyond the lingering but heavy pounding in his head, which had struck up pretty low and then built to a crescendo until he could feel his fucking heartbeat behind his brows and which simply then threw in another happy little problem for him to add to the ever growing list.

Hmmmm.

Probably best to avoid hallucinations then, since they seemed like they were probably a pretty bad thing to have and so he turned his baffled thoughts hurriedly to his brothers, because they at least were real and more than likely freaking out.

Probably the two of them were charging in towards him like some mounted cavalry regiment heading in to make the save and with their technical man bitching and barking in fury, but in that totally snippy mother hen type of way that he had and which to anyone else would have sounded like anger but which the copper blonde knew was an expression of love. His pumped up little brother like some rabid little chipmunk that was armed to the teeth.

Roman, not so much.

Because their powerhouse was more like a prehistoric mammoth or a brown bear that had been plucked from the mountains as a cub and then raised to be one of those show bears they used in movies, but who was totally as cuddly as a teddy beneath and who only swiped his paws and bared his teeth when he was furious, like when somebody stole his brother and then left him in the sun _and_ took his badge and his watch and his wallet.

Damn it –

He really wished he had at least the watch or a clue of where the thing was.

 _Crack_.

Dean stumbled on something heavily then fell flat on his face as his legs folded up, but pretty much like they were broken or made of paper since they no longer seemed prepared to put in the work to hold him up. They buried him into the sand and the cracked earth and loose chippings which filled his freaking mouth up and made him splutter and cough.

 _Ugh_.

"Oh that's not freakin' great, fuck – ,"

Every inch of him was thirsty from his lips to his head and right the way down to his toes, because even though he had been sweating up a storm a few hours back suddenly his skin was pretty much fully dry.

Huh.

Part of his brain was screaming at him that was a bad thing, because it meant that there was literally no water left to use but it also kind of felt nice the more and more he thought about it, because being hot and sticky had by no means been a help.

Sticky.

He felt like that was kind of a weird word.

 _Sticky_.

Stick— _y._

It meant two things at once, as in something that was tacky or humid or adhesive but _also_ meant that something was like an actual piece of stick, as in the things that fell out of trees for the most part and that pooches really liked if you threw them or played tug.

Hot.

Freaking thirsty.

He tried to push himself upright but then only rose as far as wobbly little crouch before his blubbery legs failed and planted him backwards whereupon he figured the floor was where he was meant to be and so simply went with it in a slump of exhaustion as he tried to take stock of what was happening to him. He felt kind of weird and spacey and _hurty_ but was struggling to put a pin in the reason that was.

Behind his brow line the headache was still pounding but had spread out so that it also thumped in the corner of his eye, which made him squint so that he wrinkled his face up and then _also_ fucking hurt only he wasn't sure why, except for the fact his skin felt hot when he touched it and raw and tender and it made him mumble,

"Fuck – ,"

It was too hot.

He simply could _not_ keep moving. But then a five minute nap never hurt anybody right?

Besides which his body was so fucking hot and scratchy that he couldn't have held back the blackness had he tried and so therefore he let it take a sudden hold of his senses and pull him away from the heat and his thumping heart, but in tiny little bursts that he woke from repeatedly with the sensation that he was falling or floating or tripping up and that threw him right back into the horrors of the real world where his body was roasting and his brain swam and hurt.

Nap, wake, panic, repeat –

His heart was beating _so_ fucking hard it damn near _hurt_.

Not to mention the fact his earlier supposed hallucination had come back in again with a powerful burst, since he totally swore that at one point he could hear rotor blades which then morphed into familiar voices in his head as first his fiancée and then his brothers began to chirp at him in a boogieland remix so that their tones swam in and out and then blended until all three of them were bellowing in a panic into the recesses of his psyche.

 _Dean, don't fall asleep_.

Beyond him he could feel the little shade patches lengthening as the sun changed it path and then began to sink back and as the landscape turned ochre and full of heavy colors which then finally broke through the solid brightness of the heat and hinted at maybe a cold night approaching. It was the perfect time to move.

But he couldn't –

He tried.

He tried so fucking hard but his hands and his legs failed him and besides which his head was so thick and foggy and buzzed that he could even barely even process what he wanted from his body and so simply continued to sprawl with his eyes shut tightly and with sleep washing over him.

 _Dean, where are you?_

Huh?

He woke in bewilderment and then mumbled in frustration because the voices were back, but even _louder_ than before and with a handful of other sounds mixed in with it, because he _swore_ he could hear the sound of boot soles on cracked earth and trampling through the barren and scrubby surroundings and when he opened his scratchy eyes he _thought_ he could see lights.

Hmmm.

Dumb brain.

He heard the noises come in a little closer with a rumbling of chatter that he felt he should have known, but which totally passed him by because he knew they were visions and because even had they _not_ been he was too tired to call for help.

 _Find me_.

"Are you sure it wasn't back over this way?"

"No man, I swear there was something right here – ,"

Dry branches cracked and then broke somewhere close to him but way too loud for his battered head to comprehend and so he screwed his eyes tighter and then let out a throaty mumble, because honestly he fucking wanted everything to stop but the sound of which came out way louder than he expected and then stopped the crashing noises dead.

Sort of.

"Dean?"

Frantically moving feet began to pound in closer and he frowned to himself because they sounded like they were real, but in no way _could_ they be because it hardly seemed possible. Besides which he was lost out in the middle of open space and so was therefore unlikely to be found by passing hikers or traffic or whoever the hell else was out there.

"Fuck, no, no, no."

A pair of kneecaps landed heavily beside him and bumped his shoulders so hard he was then shunted on the floor, but had little time to take any stock of what had happened because the next thing he knew there were fingers at his throat, seeking out the thud of his thready little pulse point but which hurt his frazzled skin and made him frown a little,

"Nuh – ,"

"Dean, thank fuck man."

"Babe?"

More hands fell in over him, but even through the levels of base confusion they were nice, because he knew that they belonged to two people that loved him even if his consciousness had no clue who they were or had the energy to open his eyes and look at them since his last reserves of life were totally spent. Instead he lay limply and let then hustle him upright before being folded back towards a broad supportive chest, which circled arms around him and then held him super closely while tousling through the messed up and sticky lengths of hair.

"Okay babe, it's okay, we're here now."

"Wat – ,"

Dean forced out the first half of the word then coughed, but was rewarded for his effort by hands brushing his features and pawing the sand and the dry earth loose, before levering his head back by lifting his chin lightly and pressing a bottle of water to his mouth.

Bliss.

How the two men had known what he had wanted without him even saying it was too much to figure out, but regardless they had and a split second later a trickle of cool wetness splashed in over his thickened tongue and then began to cascade over it rapidly which startled him at first but which he leaned in towards so that the flow splashed down over him, including his chin and neck which was actually pretty nice.

It was moved away quickly,

"Wha – ,"

"Whoa, not too much man, take it easy okay, little sips, little sips."

Dean frowned at that but then complied to the order by trying to be more cautious the second time around, but which still ended up with him covered in water. He whimpered a little when it was once more pulled back, even as the hands moved in to clean the mess up, by almost maternally wiping the liquid from his lips. Blinking his baby blues up for the first time he frowned in bewilderment through the fuzzy looking haze which was possibly in his mind more so than on his eyeballs but which totally refused point blank to then clear.

He frowned,

"Who're you?"

"Damn, my boy needs the hospital,"

"I'm telling the pilot to put that bird back in the air, Roman can you carry him?"

"You know it brother."

Frantic chat and motion seemed to buzz about above him, but thanks to his exhaustion Dean was too wiped to care and so therefore made no move to probe his saviours any further as the one with the water spun and then barrelled off, in a madcap trample through the barren scrubby brushland, which crunched and twisted and broke hard beneath his tread but was then eclipsed as the man that was holding tight behind him began to shuffle around behind his back and the bumping of which brought another moan of censure that bubbled from between the cracked and apparently sunburnt lips,

"H'y – ,"

"I know, sorry uce, but I'm taking you outta here."

"Nuh, t' bumpy – ,"

"I'll move easier, I swear."

In being pulled back onto his feet like a ragdoll his brain rolled right up to the top of his head and Dean felt himself sway and then weakly topple forward, so braced as best he could to hit the baked mud face first. But luckily instead he folded over a thick shoulder, which took his weight easily and then hefted him up so that his view of the world turned one eighty completely and which baffled him a little and made him murmur,

"Uh – ,"

"You're good."

Beyond them through the landscape a loud whirring noise was building like someone was tossing large knife blades about and which then became louder and faster and heavier as they crunched in towards the whatever-the-hell-it-was. There was a blast of air too, which ruffled his hair wildly and his still sodden shirt folds and then threw up loose bits of rock as the first voice barked loudly over the noose over them, sounding frantic as ever,

"Come on man, let's get him up."

Get him up where?

Whoa.

Dean felt himself tip backwards as the broad pair of shoulders he was balanced in over leaned forward slowly to let his battered body loose, which made his overworked heart lurch in panic before more hands rose up to then lower him back and onto the hard metal surface of the contraption that was making the blast and the clouds and the sounds.

Helicopter.

"Yeah babe, we're flying you outta here."

Evidently Dean had spoken the word out loud, or maybe it was some sort of familial telekinesis or a plumb line to his best friends, because _that_ was who they were.

His brothers.

Right?

Dean blinked up towards them uncertainly, figuring that it was probably best to make sure and found a man knelt in too freaking close to him with a palm pressed loosely but lovingly on his chest, while the second man barked over the blades at the pilot about flying times and landing stations at hospitals nearby which made the hurt man blow a tiny little snort out then smile a little in confirmation.

Yep.

"Babe?"

But the undercover lawman had nothing left in him and so instead shut his eyes and passed back into the black, with the sounds of the rotor blades pulsing above him and the warmth of the palm that was anchoring his breast and tying him to something big and stable and solid.

Then there was nothing.

Briefly.

Beep, beep.

Beep, beep.

Huh?

Because bizarrely the next time he opened his eyes and blinked upwards it was into a far sharper brand new sight, which took the form of a white painted ceiling which some moron had chosen to stud with spotlights so that his newly cleared eyes were then instantly blinded and which made him lift a hand up and curse about it.

"Fuck."

"Dean?"

Feet lifted from the folds of the bed instantly and a hard metal chair was hauled in closer to where he was, which meant having to pull it across the plain linoleum which smelt like cleaning fluids.

Hold up a minute –

What?

Bypassing the two faces that were moving in to hover over him with their typically wide eyed brotherly looks, he let his blue orbs roam across the room briefly which began to reveal where precisely the fuck he was, since the space led out onto a stark seeming corridor where he could see white medical coats striding about and even had that not then been the clue to his whereabouts, then the tubes in his arms would have probably told him the rest, since he suddenly became aware of them as he shuffled a little and pulled on the needle threading into his vein.

"Dam' it, ugh, m' in the h'spital aren't I?"

"You nearly _died_ you idiot, of course you freaking are."

Naturally it was Seth that bit back the answer, but with lashings of relief even if they sounded harsh and were delivered with a frown that nearly swallowed his whole face up because some things never changed. Dean liked that fact though. Plus it reminded him of his brother being a chipmunk and so he reached out with a grin and then pinched him on the cheek,

"Coochy coo."

"What the hell is happening?" Seth batted him off again and then turned to Roman who looked similarly concerned,

"Babe?"

Seth shook his head,

"Roman, call the damn nurse in."

Dean snorted in response and then waved an airy hand,

"Take it easy uce, m' like, fine or whatever."

"You pinched my cheek man," Seth half grumbled back, before watching as the copper blonde shrugged like it was nothing,

"Because you're cute like a chipmunk holdin' a teeny tiny switchblade."

It didn't seem to help things.

"Roman that's it, call the – ,"

"C' mon m' _fine_ , no one call anyone."

"You sure about that babe?" Roman lifted an eyebrow, like he wasn't completely convinced by the charade and so to prove he was okay, or not dead anyway, Dean shifted himself upright a little.

Holy ouch.

"So now how 'bout you tell me what the fuck is goin' on here?"

His voice sounded pretty much totally beaten up and husky too, like he had downed some tequila or been singing way too loud. But wait a minute, he _had_ been, way back when he had been in the rental which was his final recollection before his memories went black and beyond which he could only half remember a woman with a low cut top and with her breasts hanging out.

Roman crossed back with a sigh from the corridor where he had continued to hover hoping to hail a passing nurse, but at the sound of the croaking and the cracked lips turning upwards he reluctantly moved back to reclaim his bucket chair,

"Dehydration uce, you were out there for hours without any water,"

"So that's why m' all hooked up?"

"They needed to replace your salts,"

"Bath or smellin'?"

Both of his brothers threw their eyes up at that, but their snorts lifted the worry that the pair of them had been wearing ever since the whole chipmunk switchblade thing had slipped out. More memories flashed back to him suddenly and sharply, most of which focussed on the honeytrap with the breasts and the smile she had thrown him and the red headed boyfriend...

Oh, wait a minute.

"Freakin' son of a bitch, they fuckin' _left_ me."

"Hell yeah they did babe," Roman put in with a growl. Meanwhile Seth pulled his chair in a little bit closer, presumably so he could carry on without having to shout and which was actually kind of a thoughtful !over from the irrepressible whirlwind.

"Big man and I put a call in to the rental place when your sorry ass never showed up at the hotel."

Dean grinned,

"Well look at my boys bein' all fuckin' smart here."

Seth ignored him and simply carried on,

"We tracked the car to a chop shop and found them but there was no sign of you there."

Dean huffed,

"They took my watch _an_ ' my wallet _an_ ' my freakin' badge too."

He held his wrist up like it would underline the sadness because both the men before him had been there in the restaurant on the birthday when _she_ had handed over the box and then stood beside him looking oddly sort of pensive as she had waited for his reaction to her wilderness surprise. Frankly it was one of the reasons that it still felt so perfect to be back with his brothers again, since having two people that shared his sorry history and knew his life story felt like being back home. To further that the big man patted his shoulder fondly,

"We know uce and we found them and took them back for you too."

"You what?" Dean blinked,

Roman reached low into his pocket and then fumbled about before pulling something loose, or more like three things which were then placed on the blanket and comprised his missing badge, his wallet –

And the watch.

"Fuck," Dean exhaled and then pulled the trinket closer before checking it over for scratches or marks or like maybe he thought that it was some sort of imposter but which the inscription on the back then made clear it was not since it had her name and a series of kisses plus the numbers of his birthday super carefully stencilled in. Dean snapped it back on his wrist in a hurry and was still busy brushing the links beneath his fingers as his brother held up the battered looking wallet and smiled,

"Plus we made their asses put all of the cash back."

"What cash?"

Dean frowned as the folds were opened up to reveal about two hundred dollars worth of paper which certainly had _not_ been tucked inside it before, but which seemed to have bloomed in the hours since he lost it. Roman beamed back brightly then shrugged,

"Yours now uce."

"Huh, so not a _total_ fuckin' loss then."

He was pleased to find that his headache had slacked a bit too, but _fuck_ he was still so tired and hazy and having the watch back had tempered his ache. Plus his brothers were bundled in around him, so beyond the nearly dying part his world felt okay. Seth made clearer by then snorting at him softly,

"No more stopping to help pretty women man."

"No fuckin' way man," Dean grumbled back as Seth reached out and rubbed his shoulder gently,

"Glad you're okay though you god damn idiot."

"Thanks."

"Anytime babe," Roman grunted back at him, "But how 'bout we wait a while before we try this shit again?"

"Was – was I close?"

Dean looked up as he asked the question, with his eyes swinging curiously between both of the men and knowing that they would follow the meaning in a heartbeat, because in _his_ mind at least he had been close to finding the road since he had followed the way the rental car had taken off on him and so therefore _must_ have been nearly at the city outskirts. In response the two men shared a look of reluctance and Seth then sighed,

"Uh, you were headed the wrong way man, fifteen miles the wrong way to be exact here."

Dean gaped,

"What?"

"Sorry uce."

Damn.

Dean fell back heavily into the pillows trying to work out where his expertise had gone wrong, then figured that he must have been put off by the trauma of having lost the timepiece that meant so much to him and that therefore that was why his sense of direction had been so off and completely out of whack.

Letting his eyes shut in a measure of contentment he reached up and swiped at his face with a hand.

His brothers reacted,

"Dean no – ,"

"Huh?"

But he was answered by a hot blast of pain flooding over his skin, which started to burn so hard it made bellow in a curse that echoed throughout the hospital floor, not to mention the unit and pretty much the whole hospital as he realized a brand new problem.

Freaking sunburn man.

" _Fuuuuuccckkk_."

* * *

 **Next week, the boys hit up Seth's hometown for his birthday and Dean finally lays an old demon to rest. No drama, just a sweet little boys bonding story. One of my faves.**


	28. In The Kitchen At Parties

**So time for a nice brother feels chapter I think, plus some Dean musing which is always good for the soul. I hope you like it!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Hello, yes thank you, my mum is a lot better, all cured (we think/hope) one more scan to go.**

 **Debwood-1999, Hey, welcome back *waves* Mum is doing really well thanks, was pretty scary for a while though. The characters in the last story were Mike and Maria Kanellis, but I didn't make it super clear, I kind of like leaving it a little open sometimes (which I just killed by saying it there, d'oh!) I love the idea of Dean with more animals! So you never know, watch this space!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, I love the idea of Dean having to see a scary movie, and an idea has actually popped into my head. Might take a while for me to get around to it, but leave it with me!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well, a microchip on Dean is not a bad idea. Plus I can totally see Seth sneaking in one night like a ninja to implant it in Dean without him knowing! But no, the last one was good old fashioned detective skills!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Yep, last week was a close one for Dean. Also, kind of weird (now I think about it) that the closest he's ever come to dying was from nature, not directly from another person (even though Mike and Maria left him in the situation). But don't worry, more of a breather in this one. Time for some brotherness!**

 **Rebel8954, Haha, I'm sorry I missed that scene out now! But yeah, Roman and Seth seeing Dean's watch and realizing they've got the right guys is a good image. Plus that pit in their stomachs at knowing what Dean would have been feeling giving the watch up, or that he would never have done it willingly. They know their boy!**

 **Cherry619, The thing I love most about this series is how the guys literally only have each other (and occasionally Vince, Steph and Bo) and so they are totally in sync and sort of abnormally codependent. Dean will always expect Roman and Seth to come, even when he can't remember who he is. They will come.**

 **Skovko, Yep, pretty much. Plus when I'm feeling low or anxious, writing about Dean being in trouble seems to soothe me. Is that weird? Okay, that's probably weird. But it's all about the brother feels in the end. They are the payoff!**

 **Minnie1015, Aww, thanks, I threw in the stick-y part on the edit. Came to me suddenly and just felt right, so in it went. Honestly, I know you love it, but sometimes I really have to motivate myself to do it. But there are those times when it totally pays off!**

 **Mandy, Oh no, I'm sorry you're going through a rough patch right now. But I'm super happy to help in any way I can. Nothing so stressful for Dean (or you) this week though, so hopefully that will be even better. Plus, added Seth (eventually) for extra happy content! *Hugs***

 **Womenwrestling010, Thank you, I'm glad you liked the last chapter. The old demon in this one refers to the infamous breakup. Dean does a little more soul searching on it. But in a good way (I hope!)**

 **I defy you not to sing the title for this one...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: In The Kitchen At Parties**

Dean thrust his hand into the bowl of roasted peanuts and then bundled a loaded palm of them into his mouth. But in a move that he somehow made so completely clumsy that three or maybe four of them tumbled towards the floor before tucking themselves beneath the feet of the cupboards not to be found until the kitchen was revamped, whereupon nuts would be the least of their problems because the house had not been spruced up since the thing had been built.

Like seriously.

Not one freaking thing had changed since his last visit, which was both a reassuring and baffling thought but on the plus side had helped to soothe his nerves just a little as the wave of people had begun to bustle in, until the chintzy little lounge had been crammed full of bodies stood in a bewildering familial _throng_ , because while they were by no means his own blood relations they were to his little brother and so therefore also belonged to him.

Even so though, there were a freaking lot of them –

Rollins relations had sprung from everywhere. From cousins to freaking twice removed nieces, which Dean had been able to handle at first but who had then pretty hurriedly become way _way_ too much for him, to the point where his heart had begun to sort of pound and then turn his hands all hot and sticky feeling as every last one of them had started to probe.

 _So then, who are you?_

 _How long have you known my nephew?_

 _Such a handsome boy._

 _Are you married and why not?_

Dean had promptly bailed and headed back into the kitchen which had thankfully been empty save for platters of things, which he figured were maybe being saved for some point later but which helped to ease his mind as he sampled little bits and in particular the peanuts and the little cubes of pineapple which someone had chopped carefully then paired up with cheese, because their hostess clearly missed birthday parties from the eighties and the waning popularity of the cocktail stick and crudités.

Dean blinked.

Fuck.

He felt a little spacey because the whole thing was like stepping into a time machine then being tossed loose at a point in his history that had taken place before Seth had royally fucked things up and ruined the first time they had been a cohesive unit and had shared their families and their homes and their lives. Not that he wasn't thankful they had managed to make it back there.

But at the same time though –

Christ.

Rollins' were a full on bunch, with the same pep and spark that fuelled their own antsy teammate, except turned up to eleven in practically every case and to the point that Seth almost seemed laidback in comparison, which therefore spoke volumes about the rest of the crowd.

Plus there was the fact that the bulk of the family knew nothing about Seth having spent time inside and so in between being interrogated on his non existent love life, Dean had been trying to not bust that titbit wide or trigger some sort of familial rupture or tarnish his brother in front of his brood.

Roman had blinked,

"Wait, you mean you never told your family about you being in prison?"

"Not all of them, no."

"Why not uce?"

In response to the sentence their littlest brother had shrugged his shoulders a bit and then turned his focus back towards his computer in a hurried manoeuvre to hide his newly reddened cheeks, which had obviously been troubled or embarrassed or both of those but which had carried over anyway in his too casual tones and the fact that he had then cleared his throat like a bomb blast,

"I kinda figured that maybe it was easier to leave it out."

"For real?"

"I mean my memaw never needed to hear that."

Dean had blinked,

"Uh, what the fuck is a _memaw_?"

"Grandmother babe."

"Really?"

Because in _his_ old neighborhood memaws had not been cuddly or cutesy since _typically_ they had been women in their forties or below, who had worn low slung crop tops in place of crocheted knitwear and who had carried either heroin or condoms in their pockets rather than hard candies or panic alarms for falls. But he had liked that Seth had been raised with a memaw and on top of that he had very much liked the new word.

Memaw.

Ha.

But beyond that the prison lie had made things more complicated, because it meant Dean then having to physically bite his tongue, since the more he knew that he was not meant to say it, the more his brain tried to force the thing out and the pressure of which had nearly turned him half loopy before he had slunk towards the kitchen for a break and which was where he was still propped up on a bar stool when the hinges squeaked merrily and a figure waltzed in,

"Oh."

Dean let a breath out.

Mama Rollins was staring back at him holding what had once been the overflowing roast peanut bowl which she had obviously hoped to replenish from the main stock but which itself was running low for reasons unknown.

He brushed his hands.

 _Ahem_.

In response to his being there she paused for a second then loosely swung the old creaky hinges back into place but using her heel so that the thing wouldn't clatter and turn the clustered heads towards where he was holed up. Honestly Dean could have kissed her he was so thankful, because the last thing he needed was further attention from the pack.

He scratched at the back of his neck feeling awkward,

"Uh, thanks for, y' know – ,"

"Of course, how are you holding up?"

"Y' mean like, _here_?"

He felt moronic for asking but he was honestly by no means too sure of what she meant, since for the most part when folk tried to lead with that they meant more in terms of his having been bereaved and how he was handling the loss of his fiancée and basically having seen his future fall to hell, but which the woman before him hadn't intended since she nodded sympathetically,

"Here,"

"Um, okay I think."

"Because I know they can be a bit much with the questioning."

"Uh – ,"

"Has someone said something?"

Dean shook his head _no_ because it wasn't the fact that people had been careless or had bulldozed his feelings, it was more the weight of them and the fact that he had never been a particularly social person coupled with then having lost his fiancée and which therefore made him especially twitchy in the company of those he had never met before. Not that he could tell her that though, because those people were her family and so trashing them would probably have been rude.

He took a breath,

"Uh, m' not like used to so many people in one place y' know?"

Damn.

He winced as the words came out, because how in the world could someone born and raised in a city in a one bed apartment claim to need wide open space?

In response to it he let his eyes fall down to his hoodie and then tried to pretend the folds could swallow him whole. It was broken up again by the tinkling sound of roasted peanuts hitting the bottom of not one but two bowls. He looked up to find that Mama Rollins had moved closer, holding out a colossally sized pack of the coveted nuts that was bigger than she was and nearly toppled her over as she replenished the supplies then pushed one his way across the tiles.

Mama Rollins winked,

"I can't resist these ones either, so you help yourself."

"Thanks."

"It's so nice to have you back, both of you boys."

Dean froze with one hand half buried in the topped up peanut bowl because ever since the three of them had shown up twelve hours earlier, hauling in their cases and making excuses for being late, the fact that he and Roman had not been there in eons had pretty pointedly not been mentioned by anyone, because _that_ had been a worm can that nobody had wanted opened. Except evidently with the caveat of her.

Dean stumbled,

"Um, I mean, s' nice to be back an' whatever."

"I wanted to come and see you when everything happened," the smaller woman continued, "And then later when you lost – ,"

 _Her_.

Mama Rollins stopped herself short of saying the name openly, but then would never have needed to because he instantly knew and could feel the burn rising steadily inside of him like some perpetual lump he had caught in his throat but which no amount of time or coughing had shifted.

He nodded back mutely, eyes on the peanuts.

"Uh huh."

"I was never too sure you would have wanted to see me, but I thought about you so much."

Dean blinked a bit at that.

Back when the implosion of their team had first happened and he had woken up hurting in a hospital bed with his head bandaged up like some cheap horror movie mummy, he had been too furious and bewildered to think straight and had then been too murderous in the months that had followed to have ever even once thought about how the _Rollins_ family must have felt and so nor had he spared them much thought through the trial or in the period after that because pure hatred had been his world.

By the time his fiancée had then passed on two years later, it was possible he had forgotten the Rollins' existed at all, which was something that he suddenly felt horribly sorry for because the rurally based couple were people he liked and he had always felt content in their home and in their family.

He had lost so much back then.

But of course, so had they.

Not only their son to the recesses of prison but also the teammate brothers of whom the pair had been so fond and the security of knowing that their boy was protected and loved by other people when he had been far away from home. Remembering that made the copper blonde become twitchy, which resulted in him scratching at his neck a little more and gesturing wildly as he spluttered out a sentence which sounded clumsy as hell,

"Uh, m' sorry I never told you 'bout her. Like, when it happened I mean, but I was kinda a mess."

"It must have been hard."

"Worst freakin' thing I ever lived through."

"How are things now?"

"Better," Dean nodded his scruffy head, which he hoped would further help to underline the message without him having to then explain why that was, or else waxing lyrical about needing his brothers and how complete he felt having them back in his life. Emotional outbursts had never much been in his skillset and besides which she wasn't his freaking therapist or his friend and so he simply shovelled in another hand of peanuts.

 _Crunch-crunch._

 _Crunch-crunch_.

His teeth masked the lack of sound but by which he only meant the lack of sound in the kitchen since beyond them in the lounge there was a heap blasting out, in a constant rising bubble of laughter and chattering. That had been something else his friends had brought back to his life, since before the two of them he had never had a proper family or parties or barbecues or relations and that shit since his own blood kin mostly hated each other or were locked up or missing or were nameless one night stands and which essentially included his own errant father wherever he was.

Meanwhile Mama Rollins sucked in a wobbly little sniffle like she was teary or something,

"I'm so pleased you forgave him."

"Huh?"

"He loves you boys so much. He would do anything for you and hates himself bitterly for what went on back then."

Uh oh.

By which she meant Seth presumably breaking Dean's head open, which once upon a time would have filled him with rage, but which no longer seemed to have the same potent effect on him. Because the more the copper blonde had thought it over, the more what had happened sort of somewhat made sense and _fine_ maybe not the whole fracturing-his-skull-bit, but the fact that their brother had been scared and fucking _trapped_. Dean suddenly felt like the woman in front of him needed to hear that spoken and so he licked his cracked lips,

"Uh, so like,I know that what happened back then was because of the blackmail – ,"

"Ooh, that man."

"Hunter?"

"I swear if he were here now – ,"

Mama Rollins lowered her brows into something ferocious which sat fast on her usually chirpy looking face, but heavily so that for a minute it made the copper blonde falter, since it seemed like a moment that he needed to let flow and because the man who had earned her maternal ire had been shot long ago. But before that he had been the baddest villain in their town and had mercilessly blackmailed their favorite little brother.

Seth.

Poor Seth.

Dean still only knew off bits of story, since it was something their tech man never talked about too much but basically at some point when their team had been flying their boss' crooked husband had inserted himself in and then began to try and pull favors from their teammate which had culminated in telling him to steal evidence from the lockup room and the enticement for which had been threatening the woman who was frowning hard before him with the roasted peanuts still in hand and which their littlest brother had therefore seen no way out of but to follow through with it.

But Dean did remember what came next. His battered cranium remembered _that_ part of things too well and to banish the image he super awkwardly cleared his throat,

"Uh huh, look the guy was like, a real freakin' craphole – ,"

"Absolute craphole," she nodded in response,

"But my _point_ is I know why uce felt like he had to go through with it, I mean, maybe not the chair bit but the panic part sure, an' like honestly if I had been in his shoes or somethin' an' it had been _her_ on the line then I might 'a hit him too an' still _could_ I figure since technically he owes me, besides which your son can be a little bitch sometimes."

Mama Rollins chuckled,

"Oh believe me I know it, that boy can be far too stubborn when he wants."

"Amen."

Behind them from the lounge the soft lilting background music turned in a flash to heavy rap instead and the sweet woman before him rolled her eyes in long suffering and then waved her hand loosely as if to say _kids_. But it made the copper blonde man smile even wider because he knew for a fact whose music choice it was, since Roman had made them listen to it pretty much unendingly since they had set off hours before, to the point where the lyrics were ingrained on his brain stem.

Uce.

But with their little brother likely helping too, since he was the one with the technical knowhow, as the both of them conspiring to pump the party up. Their hostess however was clearly less impressed by it since she frowned and then let out an unhappy motherly huff,

"What in the world – ,"

"Looks like somebody screwed the playlist."

"I bet I know who."

His brother was toast but the thought of their technical whiz bickering with his mother at his very own party put a smile on Dean's face and made him newly thankful for the return of their friendship, not to mention resolved to never letting it go again. Which was probably the reason he then blurted out a sentence he hadn't even known was building.

"I'll take care of him."

"What?"

"Seth," Dean mumbled, blushing a little bit and resorting to more hand waving which was clearly becoming his thing, "I'll look out for him an' have his back or whatever."

Mama Rollins smiled,

"I know that you will and I cannot tell you how happy that makes me."

"Thought you should know – ,"

Dean tapered off and then shrugged before looking back towards the nineteen seventies tiled counters, which had clearly been installed back when taupe had been a thing and had remained ever since like some homage to bad kitchens and which contrasted beautifully with the horribly stained wood.

Both of which he had missed though.

Completely.

Mama Rollins smiled and then suddenly reached across at him to pinch his cheek in a tight little clamp, but which then tapered off to a maternal little patting as the woman then cupped his chin so that his blue eyes were forced up. Their eyes met briefly in a moment of understanding but was then broken up by the appearance of an uncle or cousin perhaps, who burst in bellowing over his shoulder before moving to the cooler and plucking loose a bottle of wine.

"Time to put a little life into this part – oh."

He stopped short on seeing their hostess in front of him, who lowered her hand from her soothing chin cup to heft them instead to a spot on her hip bones and which turned the newcomer several shades of red,

"Uncle Bruce – ,"

"I thought alcohol might help is all."

"Help what?"

" _This_."

"Get back in that lounge before I boot you there myself."

Mama Rollins was clearly in no mood for taking prisoners and in response the man retreated thumping the bottle of wine down. The older woman snorted but then turned back to Dean again, smiling super sweetly,

"Lunch will be coming up soon,"

"Sounds good,"

"But that means the kitchen will start getting pretty crowded, so I suggest that you maybe head out into the yard."

Dean nodded,

"Thanks for the tip."

"Oh and take that wine with you,"

"I – ,"

Mama Rollins leaned in to squeeze his hand once more, then turned and stalked back out over the threshold to more than likely whip her precious party back into shape, which left him sitting blinking after her in bewilderment because she honestly was a pretty unholy force and so was therefore where their own brother had taken his pep from, but in a far less motherly floral-perfume kind of a way.

 _Memaw_.

Ha.

Dean snorted a little and then slid from the barstool before snatching the bottle up and then trampling past the food which he made sure not to pick at because he figured it was likely the others needed to eat too and then headed out onto the covered little porchway where he sucked a long breath in. It had recently rained and so therefore the landscape beyond him felt heavy as it waited for a thunderstorm to push the mugginess away, but which had also sent everyone else running for cover and so the backyard was empty.

He liked it that way.

In terms of outside space it was pretty suburban standard since the yard comprised merely a fenced in lawned square, but it had a few trees and some loungers and a barbecue, not to mention a lush and rolling country style view that charted the crest of a wooded horizon over a hillside of neatly and newly runnelled farming fields and the whole scene of which was so peaceful and rural that the copper blonde felt his tensions and awkwardness melt away.

Seth was super lucky to have been raised in the country.

Well –

Seth was lucky in a whole _lot_ of ways and not least because he still had parents that loved him and family members that turned up on his birthday to celebrate and a childhood home that he still liked to be in and two older brothers to take with him and have his back.

Little uce.

Beyond him somewhere up and over the hill crest there was a flash of something then a rumble of low sound, but instead of heading back the copper blonde kept on walking in a purposeful plod towards the back line of the fence and the large trampoline tucked beneath a heavy cover, which was how their technical man had wiled his teenage boredom away in the perpetual need to keep moving and busy that he had carried right into his normal adult life and which had totally become a crucial part of their unit, not to mention the reason they were always so fast.

Breakneck fast sometimes.

Dean snorted a little as he peeled back the sheeting with a spatter of cold wet rain, because sometimes their backgrounds seemed so freaking opposite that it was practically too much to even be believed. After all, while his little brother had been bouncing in a backyard _he_ had been out on the city's mean streets, trying not to piss off the local drug kingpins or have his sorry little teenage ass kicked.

Beneath the protective cover the trampoline was moist but working and so he rolled the wine bottle up followed swiftly by himself, before flopping over onto his back like a beetle and peering up with a sigh into the thick clouds beyond. They were beginning to bunch up like they were waiting on something, which was further underlined by another rumble not far off which seemed to be moving in ever more rapidly.

Dean eased the cork from the bottle then sipped some.

Fuck.

He freaking _hated_ red wine. But what the hell, it was alcohol and so he took a longer inhale and still had the bottle tipped up into the stratosphere when two familiar figures trampled out beneath the porch where they stood momentarily like they were looking for someone before finding the copper blonde on the trampoline like a child.

"Dean, hey man, what the hell are you up to?"

"Drinkin' wine."

"Why is that babe?"

The copper blonde waved a hand, pointing it loosely in the direction of the tech man and sounding mildly accusing,

"Because his mom told me too, like m' not kiddin' uce the woman is one of those enablers."

"Like you need an excuse?"

"Hey, m' tryin' to live a clean life."

"Sure."

By the time his brothers had crossed the lawn towards him they both had the same look painted on their face, which bordered on bewildered but with familial loving and which they underlined further by then hauling themselves up and onto the mildly bobbing taut trampoline flex to sit alongside him. It was where they belonged and not simply in the pre-storm mid-birthday moment either but also in life and mushy stuff like that. Not that Dean would ever have wanted to say it openly. But then luckily he never _had_ to because they already knew and so instead he snorted then passed the bottle over towards their birthday boy.

"Hey, cool party man."

Seth snorted,

"Dean, come on, it sucks and you know it."

"Mom busted the rap music huh?"

"Oh yeah, but you know, we managed to blame the switch on my cousin, so technically we're fine."

"Smart."

"That's because I'm a smart man."

"Real humble too."

Roman chuckled at the banter and then reached his paw over as the bottle was held out, before taking the sort of mouthful that to him was a soupçon but which to normally sized people was like an inhaling whale and which managed to lower the level in the bottle by about a neat third or potentially even half.

Dean took it back.

"How'd you know I was out here?"

"Mom told us."

"Wanted to see how you were holding up babe."

He shrugged,

"M' okay."

"That right huh?" Roman grumbled back at him, "Because one minute you were in there and the next minute you were gone."

Dean blinked but chose to remain silent at that part. But he did snatch back the bottle to take another hit, because the truth was that he had actually been functioning pretty reasonably right up until the moment a large sort of woman had burst her way super loudly into room. She had been a blood aunt or a long lost sister or something, Dean had never quite figured out the family tree, but he had certainly taken notice when she had started to question him and generally probe like she was border patrol and which had made his head spin and then his heart lurch a little as she had turned first to careers and then marriage and kids.

Nope.

From that point on the kitchen had seemed safer but he should have known that his brothers would have noticed his being lost and then slipped from the party to hunt him like bloodhounds. Or more like a chihuahua in the case of Seth. Not that he would have liked that comparison in the least though, since he probably thought he was something fierce and big.

But nah –

Seth was one hundred and fifty percent pure chihuahua.

Dean snorted and then leaned over to ruffle the nearby head but then turned the hold swiftly from a brotherly noogie into a head lock which toppled them backwards and made the birthday boy bark and then try to fight himself free as he protested and pretended to hate it,

"Dean, hey, cut it out,"

"Nope,"

"Dean – ,"

"Come on dude, consider this your present,"

"I want something better."

Dean pretended to look appalled,

"You mean the pleasure of having me here at your house with you isn't enough?"

"No."

Reaching an arm up their littlest brother twisted and then flipped Dean in an unexpected reverse hold, which threw the copper blonde face first onto the meshing and made the trampoline flex beneath their crazy brawl,

"Hey – ,"

"Ha, now who's on top, huh asshole?"

"Neither damn one of you."

"Roman no — ,"

But it was too late as he threw himself in too, in a haphazard launch which landed his bulk right on top of them and crushed them both beneath his sizeable weight and pretty much flattened their lowest placed undercover man who coughed in a mixture of pain and breathlessness,

"Fuck – ,"

Not that he minded the total crushing _too_ much. Because honestly it had been too long since they had scrapped and basically acted like big old massive morons or the overgrown teenagers they essentially were. Dean lifted his fingers and then tangled them in the hairline of one of his way too shaggily maned best friends before pulling on it hard which brought a reaction as their powerhouse hissed,

"What in the hell, that's my hair – ,"

"Get off me then uce."

"Make me."

Dean took up the challenge by beginning to squirm from beneath the brother pile which he totally thought would be like pulling off a tablecloth. Instead though it turned out to be impossible to work, because the weight of the two men was pinning him too tightly, as their wheelman seemingly knew only too well, since he then reached in and ruffled his bangs heavily before handing their birthday boy the same treatment as well in a way that left them protesting pretty heavily but totally helpless to hold back their fate,

"Roman – ,"

" _Uce_."

In response to the mewling the bigger man chuckled and then leaned further in until the three of them were basically tangled in each other in a grumbling knotwork of muscles and limbs but which also brought the smaller men face to face beneath the bundle. It meant that they could create a counterattack.

"Three, two, one – ," Dean began to counter backwards, but was then interrupted by Seth bellowing at him,

" _Now_."

Between them they both bench pressed up from the trampoline, which was hard work but managed to heave the powerhouse off, so that he slithered to one side in a bulky sort of bundle and then turned _him_ into the target.

He blinked,

"Hey wait a minute now."

" _Get him_ – ,"

Dean led the charge in a full bodied spear tackle,, which piled into their big man and turned him hard onto his back, with the scruffy copper blonde pressed head first into his ribcage but with their birthday boy only seconds behind. Dean threw in a few false stomach punches for good measure and then crowed out in triumph,

"Ha, suck on it uce."

"Uh, no thanks to that babe."

Dean frowned,

"Fuck – ,"

Nor was Seth all that impressed,

"Hey, can you two idiots stop being freaking weird on my birthday?"

Roman shook his head beneath the pile,

"Nope."

Between them they were laughing a veritable storm up, or possibly even channelling the weather somehow, because above them the fast blackening sky suddenly lit up brightly and a colossal fork of lightning blitzed a path towards the ground, before being followed up by a biblical clap of thunder which practically blew the blood clean from their ears and then made the house and the whole freaking _world_ shake.

"Whoa."

Hot on its heels the burdened heavens then opened, in the form of unholy fist sized splotches of rain which began to batter them over the head, neck and shoulders like some neighborhood kid was throwing water balloons. Cold, heavy and super accurate water balloons, which made them shiver. Dean bit out a curse,

"Fuck."

"Damn it, come on."

Being on top of the bundle of brothers Seth was easily the first man back off, with Dean freeing up his tangled kneecaps behind him and their hefty powerhouse being the last to tumble loose. It then took another minute to put the cover back on the trampoline, which Seth and Roman handled while Dean snatched up the wine, but by which time the rain had turned into a torrent and then begun to whip as a hefty breeze struck up. Because evidently the thunder and the lightning and the wetness had not been enough.

Freaking Mother Nature man.

Dean blinked through the rainfall and then was still standing hovering when his brothers charged past him having slotted the cover on, which then forced the powerhouse to pluck at his collar and half haul him behind them as the three of them ran. They burst back up onto the little porch laughing, then let themselves through into the kitchen once more.

Dean beamed widely,

"Uce, you run like an elephant – ,"

"Hey, what do you want from me babe? I'm a meatball okay?"

In front of them their birthday boy leaned forward and shook his hair out and then stepped aside to let them follow him in, but whereupon they all stopped frozen in embarrassment because the little tiled kitchen was full to the brim and packed full of aunties and cousins and uncles pulling platters from the oven or ferrying stacks of clean plates. Except every last one of them was blinking in confusion towards the three men who were a _teensy_ bit wet.

Mama Rollins stood somewhere in the middle of the Rollins' gathering, hissed in pure horror,

"Oh my word, what in the – _boys_."

"We're fine mom."

"Go upstairs and put new clothes on this instant, before you catch your deaths."

To underline her point she even flapped a cloth their way, in a little chivvying move which propelled them through the Rollins' who were still watching and which included the aunt that had been hassling Dean before and who looked like she had a whole bunch of new questions that she wanted to put to him.

He blew a sigh out.

 _Crap_.

Roman must have heard him murmur however because he put a meaty paw out and then laid it over his nape, before pulling him closer and mumbling into his hairline as they threaded through the hallway leaving wet footprints on the floor and in a way that told Dean his two brothers had been looking and watching over his sorry ass pretty much the whole time,

"Don't worry uce, me and Seth'll shield you from her."

"That a pun?"

"Nope, that's a pinky promise babe."

Dean snorted back but then smiled sort of crookedly as they trudged into the room they had been given for the night, which had belonged to their tech man throughout his whole childhood and so as a result was still studded by teenage things. Like the poster of the woman in a bikini on his ceiling right over the spot where his bed had been set and the tack marks on the wall from what had once been a shrine of sorts, to a former police icon but which had recently been removed and then to the trophies framed proudly over the mattresses that had been blown up and laid out on the floor for the guests.

Seth plucked his shirt,

"Geez man, I'm freakin' soaked here, I might need a shower."

"Also, bad news, but you smell."

Brown eyes rolled upwards and then narrowed pretty heavily as the copper blonde smirked like an idiot child, but the sheer familiarity of the look was pretty warming, so in the end Seth simply tried to fight back his smile, which he then managed to turn into a frown of suspicion as he stripped off his wet clothes,

"Hey, so come on, spill man, what exactly were you and my mom busy talking about?"

Dean blinked,

"When?"

"What do you mean _when_? In the kitchen before."

"Oh – ,"

Dean blinked a little. He wasn't sure what to say to them since he and Mama Rollins had talked up a _bunch_ of things, including love and loss and then coming full circle and so pausing momentarily he looked around the room and then back to the two men who were staring expectantly at him waiting for an answer, or for _anything_ at all.

Dean cleared his throat,

"I – uh – like, I mean, I have your back out there. Um, like, I mean in life or whatever. Both of you guys, y' know?"

For a second his brothers simply looked at one another like between them they were trying to fill in the blanks, but at the same time knowing that an epiphany had happened and so Roman nodded gently in return,

"Back at you uce."

Folding himself back onto the little air mattress which squeaked beneath the sudden forceful shift of his weight and then nearly threw him off altogether, the copper blonde blew out a steadying breath and then laced his hands behind his wet tousled birds' nest while brushing off the feeling of his shirt being soaked, because somehow none of the sogginess seemed to matter.

His life was pretty awesome.

"Hey Seth? Happy birthday man."

* * *

 **Next week, the boys are on a stakeout, except this time they have someone along for the ride, who may or may not turn out to be more trouble than they're expecting. Make that a lot more trouble!**

 **See you next time!**


	29. Ride Along

**Holy crap did this one ever get away from me in terms of length! But hey, a story needs all the space it needs. Plus hopefully it was worth it. I'll let you be the judges of that though!**

 **Guest, Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. Fingers crossed you like this instalment too.**

 **Skovko, Nice guess, but nope, I threw you a curve ball on who is going to be heading out with them in this chapter. Read ahead to find out! Oh god, Seth is so chihuahua and especially Shield days Seth, always yapping at Dean from the apron. Good times!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well, you never know, maybe RAW will finally get it right now everyone's called them out on how crappy the show is. I think they're waiting for TLC before unleashing Dean and Seth, but it means that they've got a lot of time to kill! Fingers crossed though. I want Dean as a beloved Becky type heel!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Awww, thank you *hugs right back.***

 **Cheryl24, Haha, maybe I just wanted you to think it was Bo? Only one way to find out…**

 **Derick Lindsey, Well, Bo will be back (he can stay away from his 'best friend' for long) but this time I'm throwing one of our other occasional characters into the mix! Thanks for the wishes for my mum. She's got one more scan and then hopefully we're in the clear, but it's been a long twelve months!**

 **Mandy, I liked writing the boys cutting loose and rolling around together like overgrown kids. They need that and they're boys after all so it comes with the territory! Writing the three of them against the world is soothing for me. Glad it helps you too. It makes me happy to know I can help in a small way.**

 **Debwood-1999, Ooh, I like that idea! Although I have something sort of similar coming up in a chapter or two but from the other perspective. Okay, not exactly similar but along the same vein. Great minds think alike and all that!**

 **Cherry619, Yeah, nothing better than the occasional chapter with the boys just being boys. I need to treat them to that a little bit more I think. I'm too mean to them! Is it Bo this chapter? Hmmm. Well, you'll have to find out…**

 **Minnie1015, For goodness sakes girl don't apologise! I know you're in super crazy baby mode right now. I mean, well done on finding any time for reading and reviewing at all! As for Bo? Well, Bo will be coming soon, but right now the boys are in for another type of unwanted company!**

 **Settle in folks...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Ride Along**

In the world of policing there were rules about stakeouts and how to watch criminals without being caught. In fact without the rules their unit would have never have survived long, since beyond the busts and the raids and the _crazy_ , it was surveillance work that brought bacon back home and was something that they had spent so many hours on that they knew the crucial tenets of like the back of their hands and which included parking up, staying low and keeping quiet with their eyes on the target.

But most of all keeping quiet.

Deathly quiet.

"Ha, look boys, here comes another hopeless sucker right like a fly into our little trap."

Damn.

In bellowing from the backseat the hoary headed figure had also leaned himself right through into the front to point towards the windshield with the tip of his finger, but which unfortunately knocked the zoom lens being held by Seth and then sent it flying towards the footwell with a thud noise where it had to be fumbled for,

"Stop shouting man."

"Oh, I'm sorry boys, but I saw a suspect."

"Where?"

"In the blue raincoat stood over on the left hand side of the street."

"Huh?"

Moving in tandem the three man strong taskforce turned to peer out into the blackness beyond and through the spots of rain that had collected on the windshield which had steadily been spreading to counter their view. Luckily Roman hurriedly threw up the wipers in a single little swish that made things more clear.

Oh.

It turned out that there _was_ a person stood on their nearside in the corner of a pool of warm looking streetlamp light, which showcased the promised blue raincoat slick with water but which _then_ clearly showed up the ends of a blue rinsed perm, not to mention the hem of a pleated skirt beneath that and the slow sort of tread that came with retirement age and so therefore meant that the person in question was _not_ a potential suspect.

Not for a brothel anyway.

Dean blinked,

"Uh – like – m' pretty sure that's an old lady."

Behind him there was a creak of the battered leather of the seats as their unwanted fourth member leaned back in a little closer with his brows pulled tight together like they might help him see. It seemed to work though considering he then blew a sigh out and cleared his throat in embarrassment,

"Hmmm, well, I mean, she looked more manly from back here I suppose."

"What _that_?"

In response to the point towards the elderly lady the older man blew out a petulant sounding huff then shrank back into the seat positioned by their equipment to which he had been bumped when he had clambered in three hours before and promptly tried to recline the cushions so hard that the little plastic wheel had broken off in his hand, since the old man he was basically still built like a buffalo with the bicep strength to match.

Mayor Vincent K. McMahon. Head honcho of their loveable but crime ridden little cesspit and the man who tended to pay their monthly wage, since the harder they worked the better the statistics, which were the lynchpin on which his own lofty political career was built and which had recently taken up the whole of his focus for one pretty seismic reason.

It was voting time. Near enough.

But the imminence of it had resulted in a panic and a flurry of campaigning from right across the political front and not least of all from their bullish employer, which was pretty crazy really because they all knew he would win. In the same way he had won for the term he was running and the one before that and so on and so on, since nobody could remember him _not_ being the mayor or living in the city without a McMahon in command. In many ways it was a testament to how far their hometown had risen and how fully instrumental their old man had been in that.

 _He_ was their mayor.

No one else would have a look in.

Not that Vinny Mac was betting too hard on that, hence therefore the reason that the boss was bunked in with them on an actual goddamn _stakeout_ of all things. Because he wanted publicity shots or the kudos of having been there, out on the front lines with the men who were keeping their city safe. Plus it fitted well with his hands on approach to things, not to mention his belief that he was some old time movie hero and so therefore suited to policing.

Um –

His recent spell of bellowing however said no and so too had him turning up three hours earlier in the long sleek black town car with city hall flags on the hood and the two bodyguards who had fallen from the vehicle with their firearms raised cautiously.

Starsky and Not Much.

But which had basically comprised the least lowkey entrance that had ever been made in the whole history of human life and had further enforced what the three man taskforce had been thinking since the thing had first been put to them several weeks before, by their scowling commissioner who had provided one instruction,

"You three look after him out there, otherwise I swear to god I will bring back executions."

Uh huh.

Having the mayor there was a horrible idea.

 _Horrible._

From in front of him Seth popped back up from the footwell with the camera in his hand but with his face blooming red, from where the blood had rushed up into his cranium throughout the process of him scrubbing about on the floor of the van. Or potentially it could have been fuelled by pure fury, since of the three of them he had been the most vocal about the thing and the possible pitfalls of babysitting their mayor while at the same stopping crime and catching dangerous men.

He had flapped his hands hotly,

"What in the hell do we even do with him?"

"Take him bowlin' maybe?"

"Dean – ,"

"Bet he's never been before."

Roman though had luckily been a little more pragmatic, as he had leaned back in the seat behind his paper laden desk and then blown out a breath which had implied he was thinking, but to the point that his big fluffy brows knitted in,

"How about surveillance?" he had offered eventually, which Dean had responded to super eloquently,

"Huh?"

The big man had shrugged,

"I mean, it's nice and easy and it would mean he was out of the firing line."

None of them been had exactly one hundred percent on it, but it had been their best shot so they had run with the thing, and then tried to locate a suitable stakeout, since busts involving weapons or criminal families were way too flammable, while bank fraud and missing persons stuff were way too _meh_ for his big campaign and so therefore they had needed to make just the _right_ selection to keep everybody happy.

Well, okay, so maybe not Seth.

In the end there had only been one case that fit the bill for them, which was why they were there parked up in the cold late night black, peering through the windshield at a three storied townhouse that had possibly once been beautiful but had fallen way beyond repair, as was obvious from the way that the porch paint was peeling and in the way that the windows were either smeared or boarded up, but which still out let a flicker of light from the inside which hinted at occupants living beyond. Or more like living it _up_ all things considered.

Because the house was abrothel and a pretty busy one too, based on the numbers that had been traipsing up the porch steps, past the burly minder who was looking over the clientele, but all of whom had fallen to the long reach of the zoom lens being held by their tech man who had snapped every single face, before uploading them onto their compendium of perverts, which was essentially becoming one big scumbag parade.

 _Christ_.

From his spot in the back their mayor blew a breath out and then tried to pull his lonely seat further in, before lowering his forearm down on the headrest which inadvertently trapped a lock of copper blonde hair,

"Ow, hey man – ,"

"Fellers, I think we should have codenames."

"Uh, you freakin' what?"

It was Dean who spoke first, but he was rewarded by the baffled looking faces of his brothers, who were like he was. Because they already _had_ names which had worked out pretty well for them for most of their existence and anyway, they were police not a parachute troop or an unrealistic Tom Cruise film from the eighties. Their mayor however was beaming like a child, since obviously _he_ thought it was the best suggestion ever.

"Real life codenames for the heat of the fight when we're trying to keep in touch in the middle of the takedown."

Seth blinked,

"Uh, Vince we're not – ,"

Their mayor ignored him at once.

"Reigns over here would be known as the big man."

"You know it," Roman nodded his broad head in return, because the handle was one he would have happily replied to and besides which it suited him even better than _Roman_ did, since he was both a man and impossibly bulky for which he had his island heritage and bloodline to thank but which had pulled them from trouble a whole bunch of times before then and would continue for as long as they needed him to. Vince carried on pressing a hand to his suit breast.

"Naturally I would be known as the chairman of course."

Dean turned his head like a puppy,

"How 'bout me man?"

"Ambrose son, you would be the lunatic fringe."

"Huh?"

Disappointment positively bled from his pores, because far from _his_ nickname being burly or manly the thing basically implied he was certifiably insane and which might have been true or possibly _should_ have been, but was hardly something he needed to have thrown in his face. In response to it though and more than likely his look of sullenness, Seth helpfully barked out a nasally sounding snort, since clearly _he_ found the brutal moniker pretty funny. In retaliation Dean stabbed a petulant finger in his back,

"What about him?"

Their tech man shook his head briskly and then held a warning hand up,

"Oh no, I'm not playing this – ,"

"Little brother."

" _What_?"

His shriek could have blown a window had the van not been fitted with bullet proof panes and in response to it Vince rose a quizzical brow up and then blinked a little,

"What's the problem here son?"

"Come on," Seth shot back in whiney tones, "Little brother? I mean, am I not something a kind of _cooler_ than that?"

"Nope."

Instead of Vince it was Dean popped the reply out, since he felt vindicated about the whole laughing thing and in response to it and the slowly building rift in their brotherhood, Roman blew a sigh out and then turned in his seat, keeping his tones low but looking at the both of them as he responded to the mayor that had started the whole thing,

"Nah, because these two right here are called uce and the architect."

"The architect huh?"

"Yep."

For a second their chieftain blinked, like he was possibly hearing the word for the first time or else trying to find some way to make the moniker fit, but which consumed him so entirely that he lifted a hand up to cup the thing thoughtfully over his chin. Evidently it worked though, because a second or two later he beamed back and then thumped his weathered palm onto the seat,

"I like that, okay son, I take back little brother."

Dean blinked,

"Hey hold on here, I mean what about mine?"

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Come on man, this is pointless because there is no _heat_ _of_ _battle_ on a stakeout okay? We sit and watch things, we're not busting anybody so no one needs a handle or a crazy codename."

Yikes.

For a second or two there was a weird sort of silence which was followed by the mayor then lifting up a brow and letting his eyes flick towards the undercover man whose headrest he had continued to lean his twill-suited elbow on. There was a measure of wryness playing over his features, which were probably there because most people never clapped him back but which their technical man had then basically blown wide open, since he never minced his words when he was pumped up or stressed.

"I see, well thank you for putting me straight then."

Dean swallowed,

Crap.

Vince sounded super pissed and even though Seth had probably partly earned the fierceness, the copper blonde hated the newly tense atmosphere, because being openly social was by no means his best feature but became ten times worse when basic moods were in flux and besides which, it was fine for _them_ to be mad at their tech man, but no one else could be because that wasn't how it worked and so to that end Dean sucked a steadying breath in and then tried to switch things up,

"Hey old man, have you ever been bowlin' before?"

"What?"

"Because I figured what with you bein' loaded an' everythin' that maybe you had never – ,"

Roman coughed loudly,

"Dean – ,"

Instantly the van fell back into silence but thankfully — or otherwise — it was a more lasting now, as the three taskforce members and their politically bullish extra went back to the business of watching the brothel steps and the continuous trickle of insalubrious looking patrons who were mostly hooded figures. Dean figured them for married men, whose sweet little wives were back home putting the kids to bed dutifully, wondering why their husbands always had to work so late, or possibly why they then returned smelling like latex, not to mention sweaty staleness and unwashed bed sheets.

Ick.

Back in his old neighborhood paying for sex had been so common that even his own mother had turned tricks from time to time, when the chips had been low or the cupboards had been empty, or they owed somebody something for reasons unknown.

Rent money mostly.

Drug money too sometimes.

Dean could still remember the revulsion he had felt on waking up in the morning and plodding through from his bedroom to find some sweaty man there installed at their breakfast bar and the horror of that and prospect of his poor future had been part of the reason he had chosen to bust loose and had fought to have a career and a loving relationship that had been based on more than beatings and smoking weed together.

 _Her_.

Fuck he missed her.

She had made his life worth living and more than that she had hauled him into a halfway normal life, to the point where he lived in a proper apartment with cushions and sofas and real food and that shit and in a nice part of town too where the only people on the sidewalk were those heading out to work or else out for a run.

Dean had not missed the mean streets remotely.

"Ahem."

Huh?

He blinked at the sudden husky throat clear, which barked out from behind him as their leather faced mayor became bored with all the sitting around, but which was then followed up by a bizarre sort of rustling that made him knit his brows for a second or two, before remembering that when the old man had first clambered in beside them his bodyguards had handed a freaking _picnic basket_ across. Because evidently the insanely wealthy could barely make it through an evening without a caviar break or a baby lobster or some crap and which their mayor then proved by creaking open the wicker hinges and pulling a clinking bottle of red wine or something out.

Dean rolled his eyes.

Perfect.

In the blackness in front of them he could see a shadowed figure being searched by the bouncer on the brothel porch steps, with his hands thrown wide like some type of sleazy scarecrow as his pockets were patted and his waistband was checked. In response to it Seth lifted up the zoom lens camera and then waited a beat for the face to turn his way, but was less than a second from hitting the shutter when they were suddenly interrupted by the blast of a gun.

 _Bang_.

Dean launched himself up straight in an instant, with his hand to the firearm tucked safely in his belt which he then plucked loose and held up towards the windshield in the hunt for their shooter.

"The fuck was that?"

"Not sure man."

"Can you see where it came from or who the hell fired it?"

"I'm working on it babe, you just keep your head down.."

Much like their copper blonde, his two startled teammates had copied him by wrenching their own hidden weapons loose before leaning in close towards the flickering lamplight where they hesitantly began to scan the blackened kerb beyond, all the while trying their level best to keep lowered because none of them knew when the next round would come and so therefore it seemed like their best of their options to be a little cautious until they had a better plan.

Dean licked his lips.

Fuck.

Back on the porch steps in front of the brothel the burly looking minder-come-pimp was blinking too, which meant that the blast had made it over to where he was, but also meant he hadn't been the one who had shot. So then who the hell had and who even knew they were pulled up there when none of them had moved so much as once in three hours.

 _How_?

From somewhere behind them there was a rumble of sudden chuckling which made Dean start a little because he had clean forgotten about their mayor who by rights should have probably been hunkered beneath the table but who seemed to be finding it _funny_ instead and who then even had the brass tacks to reach a broad hand through and pat him on the shoulder,

"Take it easy now boys."

Dean spluttered back at him incredulous,

" _Easy_?"

"No need to be playing the hero out there or shooting the place up."

"But someone is takin' shots at us – ,"

"No they're not son."

"Huh?"

Dean frowned and then spun round, turning himself towards the back of the surveillance van caught between bewilderment and pulsating heat. But both of those tapered as he laid blue eyes on the businessman and in particular the bottle that was held in his hand and from which a line of frothy little bubbles were trickling and beading their way onto the newly sticky floor, instead of the flute that he had clutched in his other hand ready to catch them.

Dean blinked a few times.

Oh.

Because far from having been the burst of a bullet the noise had instead been the pop of a cork and Dean faltered a little in a hail of confusion that was mixed in with a hint of embarrassment as well, because it seemed like something they should probably have figured since the three of them were _meant_ to be hard bitten cops.

Crap.

Reaching out towards the headrest he cleared his throat a little and began to poke their tech man like a small child,

"Seth – ,"

"Dean cut it out, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Instead he kept on prodding,

"Uh, I think you might wanna take a look – ,"

"Not now man."

"Dude trust me on this one, the shooter is not the problem."

"What?"

"Will you two freakin' _look_?"

In response to the combination of repetitive tapping and the hint of bewilderment lacing the tones, both men in front turned themselves in towards him but slowly like they were hesitant to take their eyes off the ball or like the second they looked back the bullet storm would burst in on them. But luckily that never happened because there _was_ no freaking gun. Instead there was their mayor holding a bottle towards them and looking totally serene,

"Can I pour you boys some?"

"Huh?"

"This vintage has one heck of a body, but then it should do since it's been maturing in the cellars for twenty years. It comes from an estate I have out in Perugia. I have glasses for everyone."

Seth blinked at him,

"I – ,"

In terms of their team and the most talkative member, it was Dean who took home the prize most times, purely for the reason that he had this condition that made him need to share whatever popped into his head, or because he liked to spout random facts he had picked up on stuff, or recite the plots of movies to them nearly word for word. But when it came to their _work_ related chatter it was their technically minded brother who took the word vomit ball and ran, since Seth was basically eternally chirping or reacting to shit.

Except apparently, there and then.

Because instead he was gaping in total bewilderment, although in that he was matched by the powerhouse at his side and was not helped further by the spritzing flute of bubbles which was handed towards them.

Dean went to take it,

"Hey – ,"

He was promptly slapped back as Seth leaned in over the seats and thwacked his knuckles with a ferocious looking frown which left actual red marks and produced a hiccup of protest from the middle man who poured like a child,

"Ow. Dude, what?"

"Come on man we're on a case here what are you thinking?"

Vince let out a chuckle,

"Oh relax a little son."

Dean winced. Uh oh. That was _not_ the thing to say to him and on cue Seth's face turned through several shades of red, as he spluttered in measures of predictable outrage and then fully exploded like a napalm bomb.

 _Kaboom_.

"Do you even realize you nearly blew our cover back there? Two months of research. Straight down the pan and now you're sitting there god damn drinking? So how the hell _can_ I relax when – ,"

Dean clapped him with a hand, launching between the seats and stifling the tech man before he could somehow make the sentence much worse, because in spite of him being a pretty natural born brawler he hated confrontations between people he knew and loved. Besides which it seemed like bellowing at the mayor was a pretty likely fast track to being fired.

No way.

No way would he let that happen to his brother.

Instead he smiled broadly,

"Uh, what he _means_ here is _thanks man_ , but Seth never cuts loose when he's workin' because he's totally committed to the mission y' know? No better worker in the whole freakin' city. I mean he's like a bloodhound."

His brother mumbled beneath his hand, which Dean liked to think was some form of a thank you but had a far more familiar number of syllables involved and which he therefore chose to keep smiling up a storm through as he used his free hand to palm back the long hair, like he was holding and corralling a boisterous little puppy instead of their tech man.

"Hmmm."

Vince raised a brow, but then thankfully chose to take a hit of his champagne rather than responding to the earlier rant and which was actually pretty magnanimous of him. Unless he was secretly planning their murders at the hands of his little but ever present security men, who had been pretty reluctant to leave the boss with them until Roman had scowled and convinced them to leave.

Poor Joey and Jamie.

Not.

Dean snorted a little, but then hissed as teeth sunk into the palm of his hand before clamping together so hard they nearly bust clean through the surface,

"Ow – ,"

"Lemme loose Dean."

"Did you seriously freakin' _bite_ me?"

"Dean, I mean it – ,"

"You ungrateful little shit."

His littlest brother shook loose of the lip clamp by batting the hands that were holding him in place, then popped back up with his hair looking battered from where it had been lovingly tousled before. Not that it had helped to improve his mood remotely since he was still pretty fractious not to mention wild eyed and would possibly have unleashed a brutal torrent of abusefulness had Roman not stepped in like the parent he was,

"Play nice."

Dean rubbed the center of his wounded palm childishly,

"He bit me."

"I hate to say it babe, but you had it coming."

" _What_?"

It was officially the last time Dean ever helped his brothers, _or_ stopped them ending up back on the breadline and he was opening his mouth to put that point to them when he suddenly realized that his neck was weirdly cold, like maybe the back of the van had been opened but which could only have happened if one of them had stepped out, which obviously they hadn't because he was looking at his brothers and there was no one else with them.

Except for the septuagenarian mayor.

 _Oh crap_.

Dean spun round in his seat and then shivered which was not helped by the hailstorm billowing in, but was mostly because the van doors were wide open and there was a very empty chair where their chieftain had been sat, which meant that he had either been kidnapped in silence, or had taken a break without telling letting them know.

But then how could a kidnapping have ever been silent?

He rapidly tossed that theory aside and then physically propelled his lanky form through the front seats to peer through the windshield in a frantic search through the storm, which bumped his baffled and unawares brothers who frowned at him in confusion,

"Hey watch it man – ,"

"Babe?"

Dean frowned hotly and then muttered out a sentence, which, okay, in hindsight probably made little sense, but that in the moment he thought summed things up completely.

"Dick fuckin' up an' walked off without tellin' us."

Seth blinked back at him,

"The hell are you talking about?"

" _That_."

Dean stabbed the point of his finger towards the blackness and both of his brothers once more turned to look, which was fast becoming a feature of their stakeout as the pair of them yo-yoed their attentions back and forth. But they stopped as they landed on a figure on the sidewalk, with his back turned their way but pointed in towards a building with his lower half arched forward but otherwise stock still, in the pose of a man who was happily peeing because presumably the champagne had pumped his ancient bladder full.

Roman gaped at him in total incredulity,

"Is that – ,"

"Our freakin' mayor man, yep, looks like it is."

"Damn."

"With his one hundred and thirty year old fucked up fuckin' prostate."

"He's seventy two Dean."

"Which is – like – _basically_ the same thing."

Dean spread his hands wide like the fact was super obvious, but it was roundly overlooked because their boss _was outside_ and pretty apparent to anyone who walked past him in close enough proximity to know who he was. It was also the total opposite of being secret and lowkey, to the point that it was hard to even wrap their brains around. Seth tried anyway though,

"Did anyone hear him leaving?"

"Nope."

"So what you're _saying_ is that the three of us were outfoxed by a creaky old man?"

"Uh – ,"

"Great," he snapped back, "Because I mean that is goddamn perfect."

He was being sarcastic since it was patently not, but the bitterness of which hardly helped find a solution and so to that end their copper blonde blew out a breath and then flapped his hand loosely towards the rain blotted windshield,

"So, do we – like – haul him back in?"

Roman shook his head,

"Nah someone will see it and the last thing we want is people looking at him."

"So then what?"

None of them knew and so instead continued watching as their mayor expelled a pretty long stream of piss, since it was nearly twelve more seconds in total before he finally started to bob on his heels and fumble with his flies before brushing his hands off and at which point the three of them let out a collective breath. Because surely the end of the impromptu intermission meant that he would swagger back their way like he usually did, in the thrown out leg-and-arm combo he favored and which would likely make everybody out there look.

But nope.

Instead Vince paused for about a nanosecond and let his eyes flicker in towards the surveillance van, before pivoting himself for the shadowed looking brothel and beginning to cross the sidewalk on the balls of his toes, in the most cliched make-no-noise type of tiptoe ever which was frankly only missing the stupid background tune and which made the watching teammates stiffen and then frown in horror.

"Where the fuck is he headin' to now?"

"Good question babe."

But the answer seemed evident because their boss man was taking the chance to have a closer look, like they had sent him out on reconnaissance or something or like the ornery old man was out working black ops and which pretty much confirmed that likely back in the seventies the boss had watched one too many shows about cops, because contrary to popular belief on the matter, being covert was more about looking like you belonged rather than creeping in wearing a twill suit of charcoal and super expensive handmade Italian treads.

Disaster was literally the only possible outcome.

Stephanie would kill them.

Not that her father seemed to care, since he was too busy living out some boyhood fantasy but without any training or weaponry or care, which then became evident when he strode towards the porch steps before pausing far too obviously at the next building along where he actually _pretended to retie his laces_. Seth groaned through his fingers in horror,

"I can't watch."

Dean shrugged,

"I dunno man, he's not like, bein' too obvious."

"He's tying his shoes in a _hailstorm_."

"Except for that."

Beyond them on the brothel steps the chain smoking minder had also turned his bulky head towards the elderly man, who was taking so long to tie up his freaking laces that it made him look like he had fled his care home and which was probably the reason that his bumbling presence had not caused either a shootout or the ringing of alarms.

Seth shook his head,

"One of us needs to fix this before something terrible happens to him."

"Whoa."

Roman reached over and put a broad hand out as the littlest of his brothers snatched up the handle to bail and then used it to pin the smaller man to the cushions as the copper blonde leaned in and held his shoulders the same way. The last thing they needed was to bust out into the blackness blazing and bellowing and kickstart some bullet hail, since their mayor more than likely believed he was immortal and which was frankly a theory none of them were keen to test.

"Roman – ,"

"Hold back and let's wait and see what happens."

"Come on man that's the _mayor_."

"But I mean he's playing it nice and cool and keeping himself back and his head low and whatever."

Dean blinked,

"Uh – ,"

In response they both spun back to find that, having stopped the ludicrous performance of handmade shoe lacing which had taken far too long, their boss man was in the process of stretching his calves out like he was prepping for a local marathon complete with lunges and squats. Although frankly it was the worst of his several bad choices, since it turned him from senile to shifty in a shot and in response to it the bodyguard watching over the brothel reached into his waistband then let loose a husky bark,

"Hey, you."

Fuck.

Double fuck and crap it.

Dean watched as their mayor threw up both of his hands which pretty quickly clued them into the presence of a weapon before they had even laid eyes on the thing, then popped up as the goon moved in towards their chieftain and pointed it at him. Impressively though their old man met the movement with a chuckle like the brandishing was an unnecessary overreaction of things.

Yep, fuck.

Dean blinked,

"Okay but I mean we're movin' _now_ or whatever an' ridin' to the rescue here right?"

Roman nodded back in agreement with him,

"Right."

They moved on cue, bursting out as a threesome and then charging across the road with their weapons drawn out, using their usual shock and awe tactic as Dean barked out loudly through hailstorm,

"Hold on old man."

Not that the mayor had a lot to hold on _to_ because somewhere between his having been spotted and the three of them moving in he had been hauled up beyond the steps and was in the process of being pulled into the brothel which was by far the campaign snapshot he had probably been hoping for. Not to mention that it showed up the first flash of panic that their elderly honcho had shown since he'd been nabbed and which filtered out towards them as a shout through the rainfall in harsh but bizarrely sort of _plaintive_ tones,

"Boys – ,"

It was the only thing he managed before the burly brothel minder hauled him over the threshold into the building beyond, having taken a look at the three men barrelling towards him before panicking and moving into hostage taking mode.

Not smart.

In response to it Seth bellowed through the hailstones,

"I'll take the back way."

"Be careful," Roman shouted in response, which earned him a smug looking smirk,

"Make sure _you_ watch after our lunatic for me."

"Huh?"

Dean turned a knitted brow in through the stormfront at that part and then tried a look of mortal offence, since he was by no means a fan of the inference that he managed to find trouble more than they did and which was _not_ true because he hadn't been kidnapped or even tripped up in _weeks_. As their brother peeled off Dean pounded up the porch steps with Roman panting and puffing behind, following the way their mayor had been snaffled and snorting to himself at his reputation for bad luck, which he frankly _still_ thought was pretty totally unfounded.

He burst in across the threshold like a charging bull.

 _Bam_.

Pain billowed up from a point between his shoulders as some sort of weapon was launched hard at his spine and the force of which propelled him bodily forwards and surprised him so much that he lost his damn gun, which skittered away off over the floorboards to a point that was pretty much out of his reach. Frankly though that was the least of his worries as he tried to figure out who had hit him and with what.

Roman barked in concern from behind him,

"Dean – ,"

He turned himself in a spin towards the tones and then came face to face with the person who had hurt him but who was not even close to what he expected to see,

"The fuck?"

Frozen before him on the cracked and stripped back floorboards was a woman who made their hoary mayor look spry and who had shovelled on so many spades of thick makeup that she was literally the same color as a freaking canned bean, except her plastered on foundation was cracked or smearing beneath a pair of eyebrows that had been plucked way too high, so that she looked bewildered instead of totally murderous, even though she was holding a freaking _tire_ _iron_.

Ow.

No wonder his poor damn shoulders were smarting.

Probably the woman had been trying to hit his head but had missed on account of her being pretty little, or possibly because her black eyeliner had leaked or maybe even thanks to her brilliant red hairstyle which looked like it had stopped being natural _eons_ before. But at least we look helped to settle her identity in a roundabout way.

The brothel madam had arrived.

Dean snorted then relaxed his tensed stance a little before casually flapping a reassuring hand, which waved pretty loosely out towards his older brother who was still busy blinking in measures of concern,

"Go on man,"

"Uce – ,"

"Go find the freakin' boss okay? M' like, right behind you."

Roman reluctantly peeled off and then bled away swiftly through the broken and battered hallway into the bowels of the house that time forgot, since from what Dean could tell by a speedy look about him the building had not been spruced up or loved a whole lot and so while there were hints here and there of former features —like cornicing and woodwork — the place itself was kind of trashed, with holes leaking rainwater onto the floorboards and chunks in the plasterwork and cracks and chips and flakes. It was kind of a shame really, on the historical side that was, but if nothing else then the cracks at least matched her pitted face.

Dean smirked,

"Real nice craphole you have here."

"Fuck you sonny."

"Kiss your mother with that mouth? Do you even _have_ a mother now, I mean, like, what are you? Because m' thinkin' either one or two hundred years here."

Damn he was a shit.

But on the plus side he was funny one. Not that the brothel mistress stood before him shared that thought, as rather than throwing her head back and laughing she hefted the tire iron up into the air and then began to rampage towards him like a heifer that had recently been to the salon for a perm and left him with three options on how he could stop her but only limited time to figure out the best one.

Running was the first option.

Ha.

Like _that_ was freaking happening and so instead Dean moved swiftly onto option number two, which was knocking her backwards and keeping her nullified but which therefore more than likely meant punching her in the face. It still beat option three though, which was letting her brain him and so to that end he sucked a breath in then curled up his fist, before tossing out one final rasp of a warning,

"Last chance to turn back here."

"Shut up and die you bastard cop."

Dean shook his head and then stepped in to meet her before throwing out his forearm to block the flailing iron, while at the same time locking his free hand beside his temple and then pausing for a second because no way could he throw the punch.

Not at an old lady.

Right?

Her kneecap burst up rapidly in what was evidently meant to be a shot to the nuts and in the process of blocking it and trying to back her up a step his fist moved on instinct and hit her in the face. But right in the nose which then crumpled beneath him although the force of it was lessened by the three foot foundation layer and so instead of breaking bone it merely threw her backwards in a physical launch through the stale and fetid air and into the thick wooden framework of the doorway which she hit skull first before slumping,

Dean blinked,

"Uh – ,"

Her chest was still moving though so he took that as a positive and besides which the old woman had been a total firebrand and was probably the type to keep her workers locked up or something, so his sympathy for her was somewhat lessened by her career. It was also the reason he brushed the makeup from his knuckles before bending to scoop up his handgun.

He snorted,

"Bitch."

Following hot on the heels of his brother he sped up at the sound of a bellowed half shout and the tones of which he would have known anywhere and so hastened towards with his heart pounding heavily in his need to provide some backup.

"Police, let him go."

Dean slalomed a corner and then nearly crashed into a palm plant that someone had thoughtfully set up in the hall, like a break in the otherwise shit brown color scheme would somehow make the rest of the place look not so bad, but which had totally failed since the thing was pretty wilty, not to mention holed up in a revolting brown vase which tottered in its stand and forced him to steady it as he looked up and clued into what was happening beyond.

Crap.

In front of him the burly minder they had been watching for hours was stood backed up with nowhere to run, but with Vince pressed as leverage to his overhanging belly rolls and with the barrel of the weapon pointed close to the aged head.

Roman was stood a few feet back from the tableau with his own trusty firearm held steady in his hand and his brown eyes blinking between the hard bitten criminal and the far more familiar closely knitted hoary brow. It still looked a lot less panicky than it ought to based on the fact that his life was at stake, but on the cool side it sort of sharply brought home to them what a total badass their head honcho was.

Vince was _the_ man.

"I said let him go damn it."

Roman tried the barked command out a heated second time, which made the words positively rumble like thunder. Unless that _was_ actual thunder from the hailstorm outside?

Beyond them and around them the continuing commotion had begun to clue others in the brothel into the scene and no thanks to their powerhouse having bellowed the word _police_ out, people were beginning to exit in streams. Mostly men with their pants hung low around their ankles, terrified that they were being caught up in a raid and therefore fleeing like rats on some poor stricken vessel while women in lurid underwear screeched about not being paid.

"Where the hell is Moolah?"

"Huh?"

"I swear if you hurt her – ,"

It took a second for them to figure who the big goon was talking about before the copper blonde realized he meant the woman with the face who was sprawled in the hall. Although her makeup was untroubled which was probably a positive.

Dean scratched his neck,

"Uh, look about that man – ,"

But he stopped mid sentence as a face popped up beyond them in a super slowly creep over the stained and broken floor, having perfectly seen through his earlier promise to find the back way into the happy house of whores. Even better was that he was coming up behind the standoff and so could take out the minder with the element of surprise. Provided that he stayed in super top secret stealth mode.

Or maybe not.

 _Squeak._

One of the crappy floorboards creaked and in response to it the hostage taker half turned to where Seth was, which would probably have totally unravelled the whole thing had Dean not then suddenly blurted out a sentence in a bid to protect him,

"I hit the old broad in the face."

Everyone blinked,

"What?"

Roman too looked bewildered, but was beaten to the punch by a horrified sounding hiss as the bastard who was holding their stoic boss man hostage let a look of revulsion take over his face, like Dean had performed an act so inexcusable that he could barely even bring himself to fully think it through. Because yeah, _that_ seemed fair being thrown out by someone who was holding a loaded weapon to the head of their old man.

Pot kettle black anyone?

In response to the shock of the old lady beat down, Seth stepped in closer testing the boards before he trod and so Dean snorted loudly and kept covering the noise up, even though it was hardly his finest hour of police work, or something to be proud about.

"Pretty sure I broke her nose too, but then she _was_ wavin' a freakin' _tire iron_ at me so – ,"

"Son of a bitch."

His ruse worked out _too_ well, because a split second later the barrel point was spun at him and would possibly even have fired a round into his cranium had Seth not then cleared the final crucial ten feet and planted his own much more well practised weapon into the short hair at the base of the balding head and hard on the spot where knotty spinal cord met brainstem and which stopped the burly minder in a heartbeat,

"Oh hell no, throw it away now man, easy, nice and easy."

Dean smirked broadly.

Hell yeah. His _brother_ was the man, as was then underlined by a metallic sounding clatter as the weapon landed hard on the floor with a thud, whereupon their powerhouse stalked in towards it and swept the thing up into the safety of his hands, before plucking their blinking mayor back out into the open looking mildly bewildered but otherwise unharmed.

Roman patted the twill suited shoulder pretty fondly,

"Are you okay?"

"I – uh – I will be thank you son, provided, of course, that I'm allowed to do _this_ first."

Before they could stop him or even figure what was happening, Vince had whipped round and thrown out a curled up fist, which he buried right into the face of the minder with enough force and fury to propel the man back and which threw up his chin and then even his consciousness before planting him heavily in a lump on the floor.

Dean blinked.

Huh.

Looked like they were two for two on assholes.

By the time he turned back from the body to their mayor, the old man was wearing a pretty broad grin and chuckling a little as he flicked his throbbing knuckles but looking mostly like a boy who had won his first fight and who was feeling more bullish than he frankly had a right to be considering his own stupidity had nearly landed him killed. In a god damn dirty freaking _brothel_ of all places, which would have been an absolute fantasy for the press.

Seth thought so too since he scowled at him,

"Look man – ,"

But their chieftain cut him off by slapping him too hard, which he then moved round to repeat on each one of them so that every shoulder there was sort of reddened and stung, but which had precious little impact on the man stood in front of them who sucked a long breath in,

"Gentlemen, it seems like I owe you my life now. I apologize for the panic."

Dean spluttered harshly,

 _Panic_?

"I was freakin' hit on the back with a _tire iron_."

But his mumble of unhappiness faded away, as behind them worried patrons stumbled hurriedly from the bedrooms with their shirts untucked and their flies left loose as they headed for the hills like they thought it might help them but which their tech wizard put them straight on with a bellow,,

"Got pictures of you all, so there's no point in running,"

" _Pictures_ ," Vince clicked his fingers together and then fumbled inside his suit before pulling loose a phone, which he hastily pressed towards the resident blinking powerhouse who took the thing baffled,

"Uh, boss – ,"

"Take a shot," Vince offered back, "But make sure you capture everything."

"Everything?"

But instead of explaining the old man turned on his heel and then strutted towards the goon he had laid out with one punch while he buttoned up his clothes and plucked free his sleeves. Stopping by his nemesis he propped a foot up on him, like he was posing for a snapshot having shot a freaking bear and which he then made even wilder by puffing his chest out and placing his hands on his hips with a grunt,

"Take it son."

"Uh, are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Roman faltered but then blew out a sigh and pressed the button with his thumb, the fake shutter noise of which made their mayor chuckle like a kid in a candy store.

"What the fuck was that for?" Dean blinked back and in reply the old man beamed too broadly,

"Well now son, I'm glad you asked, because I think I just found the perfect image for my campaign trail."

"What with _that_?"

Seth shook his head,

"No way. You really want to use that? I mean, come on old man, that's _crazy_."

But when six weeks later Vince won in a landslide that represented the biggest sweep in his history of their town, that was the shot they had blown up in the background not to mention on every poster and billboard they had up and then on a banner hung over city hall too, which political commentators in the papers and on the bulletins credited with his winning because it showed he was hands-on and therefore the sort of leader their hobbled city needed to keep the villains honest.

Yep.

Vince McMahon was _the man_.

* * *

 **Good old Vince huh? And yep, I teased you that time with no Bo. Next week we have another (hopefully) welcome return for you and I think you'll all know who that one is! See you there!**


	30. Disturbia

**Okay, so, brace yourselves everybody. Our favourite pup is back! Dean can never have it too easy can he? Plus there's a brand new character in there this time. Hope you like!**

 **Skovko, Who would have thought that Vince would be more trouble than Bo huh? Well, at least the guys know now. Maybe I should throw Vince and Bo into a wacky situation? That could only go well don't you think?! Maybe I'll save that idea for when the boys really need some punishment!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Vince has never really been the best role model though has he (in life or in fiction *coughs* fake affair with Trish *coughs*) But what can I say? I like slowly torturing the boys and who better than the one person they can't shout at? Well, okay, so maybe Seth tried!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Many thanks lovely person!**

 **Rebel8954, Yeah, Stephanie's reaction would be something to behold! I imagine the boys were stuck on paperwork duty for a looooong time after that one. But maybe in hindsight it's better than Bo? Hmmm. Maybe not. You'll have to decide after this chapter!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Vince posing on a downed bad guy is so in his ball park. I think it must come with his crazy bow legged swagger thing. I imagine Vince thinking he would be good at anything and everything (like in real life) so he would totally want to take credit for the bust! Vince is Vince!**

 **Cheryl24, I did hear about the Vince sneezing thing. I wrote it in one of my upcoming stories but ended up deleting it...maybe I'll put it back in now! But I mean, Vince is too rich not to have foibles and quirks right?**

 **Cherry619, Vince is practically indestructible. Or not, or at least he thinks he is. Luckily he's got the boys to bail him out though. Even if Seth is super grudging about it. I just imagine Seth getting the most stressed about the whole thing. I mean, it's Seth after all!**

 **Mandy, Thanks girl, I'm glad I can help in my own small way. Knew you would like Seth getting all pissy in that last one, but saving the day as well! I've got some laughs for you in this one and maybe some spooks and suspense as well. Basically I've thrown everything in there this week!**

 **Minnie1015, Well, good news because the Bo drought ends tonight! But yeah, Vince was a nice addition I thought (hoped). The guys have more than one irritating person in their lives after all and it's always good to mix things up. Besides, of course Vince would bring champagne on a stakeout. I mean, what else would you expect a crazy billionaire to drink?!**

 **This should have been my Halloween one...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Disturbia**

Suplex City had an old tuberculosis sanatorium, which Dean only knew because he was camped bitterly out in front, trying to get the thermostat in his truck to work properly and pump a little goddamn heat into the front while trying _not_ to look at the creepy building on his left side and certainly _not_ at the broken and boarded up windows that were primed to have a face looking back at him.

Fuck.

He rubbed his hands together and then squinted through the darkness hoping to see a rounded shape bumbling his way, but instead the orange lamplight and the empty sidewalk blinked back at him. Which was hardly a surprise though based on the hour.

Barely four and by which he meant four _oh hell no_ in the morning, like that was a reasonable time for people to be up.

The blame for it lay entirely on one specific person, who had called out of the blue a mere two hours before and sent Dean in a closed eyes and sleepy search over his nightstand in the hunt for his phone. It had been harder than it looked and had then knocked over a tumbler of water and tipped up his lampshade and set his freaking alarm clock off , like he had woken up in the circus or some really bad comedy.

He got his teeth again against the cold.

Fucking Bo.

Because _naturally_ the moron had been his unwanted midnight caller, showing up like the proverbial bad penny he was and for the first time in months too. In fact since the coyote incident, if bringing a rabid creature into a house and then bailing constituted an _incident_ and not an actual fucking crime. Dean had checked out several law books on that one, but bizarrely no one had written a chapter on that and so in the end he had simply repainted his shit smeared bathroom and hung a new shower curtain, then beaten up a punching bag.

Except maybe the punching bag bit had happened first though. Roman had installed one in the office. It had been used.

But in spite of the fact the copper blonde had told himself near _repeatedly_ that the quirky informant was no longer his friend and that the next time Bo called he would blow him off without blinking. But when the chirpy voice had trilled out at him his resolve had tapered off, because _damn_ but a part of him had weirdly missed the idiot and besides which the kid had been reporting a hot new lead.

Dean had grumbled into the phone without looking,

"Do you have any idea what the fuckin' time is?"

Honestly he had been expecting one of brothers to bite back and tell his grumpy ass they had a murder to get to, or a robbery in progress or maybe a freaking spaceship landing down by city hall. But instead had heard a genuine hum of puzzled bafflement which had then been followed up by a chirpy bubble of a laugh, like his murderous tones had even somehow been humorous,

"Oh whoopsie, no, but is it early?"

Fucking Bo.

The same _Fucking Bo_ who had then proceeded to tell him about a cocaine collection point he had recently heard about and that he figured his good buddy Detective Ambrose would want to know about and on which point he had irritatingly been one hundred percent right.

Not that it had made the man himself less of an oddity, because frankly Bo Dallas was both a man and mythical beast, who spent his time hot footing about the city for big time hoodlums, or else blithely hopping from scam to scam, but who also carried a heart of gold with him or else possibly some type of magic sparkly _pixie dust_ since he seemed too damn ethereal for normal human construct or something and so therefore _had_ to be an elf or a freaking sprite.

Five past four.

Dean coughed a little as his heater burst to life at last, but then promptly sucked the moisture from out of the air, so that instead he was forced to crack open his window which meant having to turn and look at the towering building to his side and the brick walls that cut it off and the badly boarded windows, only half of which had been bothered with at all.

Nature had at some point begun to slow encroach on it since tendrils of something had snaked their way across the front, but beneath which the lurid graffiti tags were still visible, because god forbid there be an inch of the city that some kid with a spray can had not blitzed in lime green, or with some pointless handle that his buddies had given him and which he thought was cool but was actually pretty lame. Like _zip_ or _map_ since teenage boys were pretty stupid and so three letters represented the limits of their brains.

His too on a bad day if he was being honest.

Even so the place still looked pretty fucking creepy though and so to that end Dean shuddered then went back to facing forward, since scary horror movies had never really been his thing and the last thing he wanted was to freak himself out totally about a place he would then have to physical step _in_.

But it was fine and _he_ was fine and he needed to remember that.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

Round features popped up at the window.

" _Boo_."

Looking back he would not remember the point at which he whipped his gun out, but the next time he blinked he had certainly pulled it loose, since he had the barrel pointed out through the window and right in the space between a horrified pair of eyes, but above a mouth that was pulled into an _o shape_ because presumably the bewildered newcomer was seeing replays of his life.

Dean fumbled the weapon and then cursed loudly.

Fucking Bo.

"Damn it man, I could have shot you in the head, scarin' me like that. I mean what the hell is wrong with you?"

Bo blinked back cluelessly, like the specifics of _that_ one had long been debated by medical experts across the globe and possibly at conferences and zoological meetings but which modern day science had failed to figure out and which meant that in the _meantime_ he was stuck with a moron who _occasionally_ remembered what a police informant was. But which clearly only happened at two in the freaking morning.

"Oopsie, sorry, I didn't mean to scared you, but you looked so funny."

"Oh I looked funny huh?"

Dean briefly wondered how _funny_ Bo would find it if he ended the night with a bullet in his foot, but instead hauled a breath in to cancel out the thoughts of maiming and instead pulled the handle and clambered out onto the street, with a grumble as his tired limbs unwound with much protest and as the bitter wind swept round him and burrowed in beneath his shirt.

His bed had been warm and had smelt like _her_ as ever and he would happily have killed a person to have been back within its folds, but instead he was there on the sidewalk with a moron, lamenting not having called on his brothers to share the load, so that the three of them could have partaken in the endless excitement that was looking for powder packets in a haunted building.

Crap.

He sucked in a breath,

"Okay, Bo, so before we go in there I'm gonna need you to run me through the specifics of this again. Like where you heard this place was a coke stash and who told you an' why an' all that kinda shit. Because the _last_ thing I want to be on is some wild fuckin' goose chase when I could be somewhere else."

Like his _not_ haunted home.

Bo blinked back pup like,

"Oh don't worry Detective Ambrose, the drugs are cross my heart and hope to die there, so no wild moose chases."

"The freakin' sayin' is _goose_ chase."

"Um, but why would somebody ever want to do that?"

Rolling his eyes heartedly the weary undercover man paused for a second and then began to count to ten, because a police appointed therapist had once told him it was helpful in the counselling sessions he had been blackmailed into having in the months that had followed the whole _broken head thing_ , since he had basically discharged himself from the hospital and then practically crawled home the second he could speak.

By which he meant call a cab.

Evidently though that had kind of worried his doctors, who had then put a call in to his ever shrill boss, who had helpfully phoned to bellow over the line at him before booking him in to go and see her trusted shrink. Who he would probably have to go _back_ and freaking visit if his moron of an informant kept on beaming up a storm, like the pair of them were _not_ stood in front of a building that made the house in _poltergeist_ seem cosy.

Fucking Bo.

Dean let the numbers round up to an even ten score and then tried his best not to look _too_ murderous. Not that Bo would have known the expression anyway and his bewilderment was liable to rile Dean up more. To that end therefore he simply levelled a warning finger to make the idiot look his way,

"Look, whatever, just stay close. Because if you get yourself lost in the dark in this damn, place m' not comin' to fuckin' look for you."

"I'll be your tiny shadow."

"Great."

Dean hauled a breath in and turned towards the brickwork, but then stumbled as the smaller man trod on the back of his heels, which sent Dean stumbling into a lamppost before then whirling back hotly with his fingers near his gun and trying to count up to ten so damn rapidly that he hit one hundred easily then kept going for broke, even as he snarled in total frustration.

"Not _that_ freakin' close."

"Oops."

It was going to be a long night.

In order to get to the tumbledown building they first had to cross through the tumbledown grounds, which had probably been near enough impenetrable at some point, thanks to the high brick walls that circled the place. But luckily though they had begun to crumble like the rest of it, so it was easy to find a patch that they could pretty much step through before trampling between the snaking vines and the tangle weed and the pieces of masonry that littered the open space, before pitching up at the badly boarded entrance with an actual shiver.

Well, Dean shivered at least.

"Christ."

Bo on the other hand seemed totally nonplussed by it, which was probably because his three and half brain cells were too busy humming to themselves to think about ghosts, or possibly because he spent his spare time watching paint dry and so had never seen a horror film in his whole life. Or at least not by the way he freaking _pranced_ towards the entrance like a pony on crack,

"Come on Detective Ambrose, I can see a way in there, last one inside is a rotten egg."

"Bo hold up – ,"

But he was seconds too late because in spite of the fact that the whole fucking building looked like it was liable to totally collapse, his happy informant simply pried loose a piece of boarding and then stepped through the slats into the blackness beyond, calling back in a voice that bounced backwards loudly in a stomach churning echo.

"Oh, I can't see anything."

Dean rolled his eyes and the steeled himself briefly before hunkering in through the gap in the beams, while firing his trusty pocket light into service with a brilliant explosion of blue white LEDs. No was stood looking slightly bewildered since evidently not even _he_ was impervious to scares and so Dean hissed the vital instruction a second time to help drive it home,

"Dude, keep close okay? Just not _too_ fuckin' close."

Bo physically saluted him,

"Copy that."

But on the plus side he at least seemed to take the terse message to heart, because as Dean set off in a crunch over the chipped tiles his informant moved with him but not _on_ his toes and which meant that instead he could pour his whole focus into lighting the way and also _not_ freaking out. But even so he pulled his gun loose because it _was_ a cocaine stash and so therefore there was no harm in being _too_ careful.

Right?

Beyond them the corridor stretched on and on forever but with rooms and stairs that peeled off on all sides so that the place felt like a warren of gutted looking passages and was claustrophobic too, like they really _were_ beneath the ground since the windows had mostly been boarded completely and so stopped the full moon from penetrating through. In the end it was only the sweep of the flashlight that helped to pierce the heavy feeling gloom and it was also the only thing that stopped them falling over as they skirted the crater holes in the floor and the heaps of debris from the levels above them that crunched beneath their boots soles and echoed back off the walls.

Dean licked his lips and then turned to his informant,

"Okay so tell me where to go here."

"Go where?"

Mary mother of all things holy.

"Tell me which way we need to go to find the drugs, because I'm kinda workin' blind here man, an' like _honestly_ the sooner we can get 'em an' get the fuck outta here the sooner I can go home an' try an' get some sleep an' pretend I was never on the set of the _Halloween_ films or _Asylum of the damned_ or whatever this place is."

Beyond them somewhere a bird launched up from the rafters and he startled.

Bo however merely shrugged,

"I don't know."

Dean turned back and then blinked at him for a second with the flashlight pointed up so that it shone into the blank face, like maybe his informant was playing another prank on him except one that was horribly _horribly_ timed. Instead though Bo was sort of squinting up in bafflement like _he_ was the one who was playing the prank.

Dean hauled a breath in.

Fuck counting to ten this time.

"Bo are you _seriously_ tryin' to tell me that you got me out of bed at _three in the morning_ an' made me come into this fuckin' fun fair haunted house to collect what _you_ said was a monster sized coke haul that it turns out could be hidden pretty much _anywhere_ an' that no one in their right mind would ever be able to track down without a team of sniffer dogs, about twenty people an' not to mention about ten hours of fuckin' _daylight_?"

Bo blinked back a little hesitantly,

"Oopsie?"

"Oh come _on_."

His harsh tones hit the walls and then bounced back at them, but also rumbled on through the corridors beyond, which made Dean straight up wince. Because the last thing he wanted was for his bellowing to wake the ghosts up, but at the same time how in the hell could he _not_ want to bellow when his night had gone from bad right to totally fucking worse and with the hair on the back of his neck stood up like soldiers which was not from the wind but was internalized instead.

Bo blew a sigh loose,

"Um, does this mean we _are_ on a wild moose chase?"

"Fuckin' _goose_ man."

"Huh?"

Dean was going to strangle him with both of his hands. Because his whole counting mantra was no longer helping since each number was merely punctuated by thoughts of how to kill, so that instead of calming him down Dean was listing murder options which ranged from a simple smothering to bearing him to death with the butt of the flashlight. Which was probably why the new voice that suddenly echoed out at them caught him with such total and utter surprise, since neither of them had noticed there was someone else with them.

"Escuse me gennelmen,"

"Fuck."

Dean launched out of his skin and then spun on his heel with a clumsy fumble of the flashlight which he then hastily held up into the newly appeared face, which blinked back without wincing in spite of the brightness and looked so pale and ghostly that his heart lurched.

Holy crap.

He never should have shouted so loud god damn it.

Fortunately however, instead trying to kill them or potentially haul their helpless souls to the very depths of hell, the colorless looking newcomer merely smiled towards them and the expression at once seemed paternal and warm. It made his heart start to slow down a little bit from where it had been beating in crazy triple time before and in response to which their _not phantom_ chuckled,

"Oopth thorry 'bout that fellerth."

Dean blinked.

Okay.

Honestly the lisp was an unexpected feature, but beneath it was a pretty heavy Southernness too. Not to mention a chubby face and some bleached blonde hair on top of it and then there was the bulk of the man as a whole. Because holy crap their new buddy was hefty and tall too, so that he stood nose to nose with the copper blonde, which _would_ have been intimidating were it not for the smile and the fact that he was maybe like _seventy_ or thereabouts.

Dean blew a breath out and then snarled,

"Bo god damn it."

Because at some point his informant had spider monkey latched onto him, to the point that the policeman was wearing the moron like a backpack. But a heavy once since Dallas was _not_ a slender man and so to that end Dean bumped up and down on his toes until the idiot puppy slithered from him with a hiss.

"Detective Ambrose, is — is he a ghost or a hell spawn?"

"Come on man, no."

In response the newcomer chuckled a second time,

"Duthty Rhodeth is my name gennelmen and I am the cuthtodian here."

Dean blinked in surprise then tried to hide his raised brows, because what the place needed was a god damn wrecking ball and besides which their new pal had clearly failed his occupation, since at some point a bunch of criminal entities had moved in and hidden their mountain of cocaine about the building. Well, at least if his informant had been correct on that part, which was no means a sure thing.

Bo extended his hand cautiously,

"Hello new friend,"

"Now then, what's your name thonny?"

"Bo and this is my best friend in the whole entire universe, Detective Dan Ambrose."

" _Dean_ for fuck sakes."

"Oh, what did I said?"

Their new pal Dusty blinked between them for a second, bouncing his eyes between the chirpy man and his _best friend_ before clearing his throat and leaning towards Dean slightly, in a voice that Bo who was still stood behind them with the policeman for protection was set back enough not to hear. Because the sentence that followed was harsh if not honest.

"Is he like one of them _thimple_ kidth?"

"Pretty much."

Dusty then nodded like he had thought so whole time and backed up before pasting on a benevolent smile, like Bo was some freaking _make a wish_ kid or something, whose request had been to spend the wee hours of a midweek morning in a creepy sanatorium pissing off his _best friend_ , which was a term that never failed to make the copper blonde rankle because Bo Dallas was many things but straight up _not_ his bosom pal.

Maybe more like a long term foster puppy or something?

Dusty cleared his throat,

"So, now then fellerth, wanna tell me what a polithman might want with thith old place?"

Bo put his hand up and then waved it super keenly like a student at the back of a chemistry class, provided that the kid had ever even _been_ to a high school, which unlikely that considering the only thing _worse_ than his general life skills were his broader sense of geography and history and maths. But it also meant there were few things left to excel at unless Bo had been kickass in woodworking perhaps, or a silent straight A student at home economics. Not that Dean would have trusted him for a second near a stove. Not after the whole chilli noodle soup fiasco.

"Detective Ambrose and I are looking for bad things."

"Bad thingth thonny?"

"Uh huh, drugs," Bo whispered and in response Dean rolled his eyes and took the reins of things,

"Yeah, Bo heard this place might be a secret, stash or somethin', but m' sure you know nothin' about that. Right man?"

He lifted an eyebrow brow in silent appraisal, because the more and more his heart rate calmed down again, the more he realized that the man stood before them might _not_ have been the keeper of the place like he said. After all, they only had _his_ word to go on and besides which it was pretty much impossible to check. Because _okay_ , so the guy was not a classic looking villain, but then who really knew?

Not him and that was for sure.

Dusty smiled back,

"Figure I might know what you boyth are looking for, if you wanna follow me?"

He turned and shuffled off and for a man of his proportions he was surprisingly speedy on his oversized feet, since the pieces of floor tile and woodwork and plaster that had crunched beneath their own boots remained silent beneath his. Either way it implied a man who knew his way around the corridors, possibly because he was paid to keep his eye on them or else because it was where he kept his secret coke stash.

Bo moved forward happily and Dean put a hand out,

"Keep behind me at all times."

"Oh but – ,"

"M' not playin' here, so you keep behind me or I swear to god I'll shoot you."

Based on the look of horror that blinked at him the command had definitely been received loud and clear and so on that note the copper blonde sucked a heavy breath in then turned to follow the custodian with one hand on his gun.

Bo trampled his heels again,

"Damn it man."

"Oopsie."

Despite the fact that they were following Dusty, who seemed to know the lay of the land, Dean still found the whole place like some nightmare, since every way he looked there were corridors without end and black rooms that when he spun the trusty flashlight into them had reminders of everyday hospital life left behind, in the form of cabinets that had long since been looted or rusted metal bed frames or dentist type chairs which he could only imagine had been used to hold down the patients and made him shudder because why in the hell were they still there?

It was like the whole place had simply been abandoned like that famous ship.

Mary something?

Marie?

He stumbled on a hole which was set in the winding staircase beneath a very broken skylight as they were led to the next floor by their unknown new friend. Probably following him was a bad idea in real terms, but he kept with it because what other choice did he have and besides which, even if he had _wanted_ to scram out of there the likelihood was pretty freaking high he would get lost and end up down in the morgue or something.

Dusty called back over his shoulder,

"Mind your thtep."

Bizarrely the man had nothing to help guide him which meant the only source of light was coming from Dean, or small bursts of moonlight that broke through the boarded windows or gaps where the masonry and brickwork had begun to break, which painted a bleak picture of the overall building, not to mention the structural integrity of the place.

From beyond them in the gloom their new friend offered them the history.

Dean blinked suddenly.

Marie Celeste. Hadn't _that_ been the name of the creeptacular ghost ship?

"Built at the turn of the thentury thith place wath. For those poor folk with chronic conditionth that needed more treatment than the hothpital could give and needed to have some clean air in their lungth way before they had their fancy medithines and things. Becauthe folk lived clother together in thothe dayth and ditheases spread like wildfire too, so placeth like thith were the last chance thaloon for some and it worked for a lot of them, but not for everyone mind you."

Bo tugged his shirt hem,

"Um, Detective Dean Ambrose, I think I hear something."

"Bo not now."

"But it might be more ghosts."

"It's probably the wind man, so stop freakin' out okay?"

Bo opened his mouth to whisper back, but was interrupted by their tour guide suddenly stopping with such total lack of warning that they nearly crashed into his back and were then forced to take a sharp ninety degree pivot through a broken door into a shabby looking room. The bare walls had caved inwards in places in the corner so that bare pieces of cladding and wood were staring back and there were old pieces of furniture scattered haphazardly like rusty filing cabinets and a bookcase and a desk, not to mention a large fireplace set into the brickwork.

Dusty breathed it in like it smelt sweet to him,

"Here we are."

He crossed to a corner of the room without a whisper and so nimbly that not even his boot treads left marks, then stalled by what had probably once been a nice window where he pointed towards the floorboards beneath his feet.

"Down there. They keep their stath here becauthe this one lifth up eathy."

Dean tested one of the boards with his toe,

 _Creak-creak._

 _Creak-creak._

If nothing else then at least it _sounded_ plenty loose enough, but then the place was falling in so they probably all were like that. Except the closer he looked, the more he could see footprints littered beneath the window in obnoxious sneaker treads of the type that criminals preferred for some reason, like they thought rubber soles helped them make their getaway, or like perhaps there was some secret subterranean criminal fashion show, where the trend conscious coke supplier could keep his eye on new trends, or that seasons' colors. Whatever the hell _that_ meant.

His girl would have known.

Dean hunkered low to the floor and brushed the woodwork to free it of some of the layers of dust, which happily showed up a little hole in one corner that was big enough to maybe put a pinky finger through and lever the plank up which he leaned forward to test out as his informant tapped at him,

Damn it.

"Bo, I _said_ not now."

"But I'm very completely positive I can definitely hear something."

Dean brushed off the continually prodding finger and then levered the rickety floorboard loose, which turned out to have been sawn into a couple of parts so that instead it lifted out pretty easily to reveal three tightly taped plastic bags, each of which was shaped in the familiar solid block way that bundles of blow most usually were and surprised Dean in that not _only_ had his informant been on the money, but so too had the custodian who was clearly _not_ a mule.

He looked up with a blink.

"Gotta be at least fifty kilograms,"

Dusty shook his head,

"I knew those three were bad man, but I'm thimply happy I could help you out gennelmen."

Bo tapped more urgently,

"Detective Ambrose – ,"

Dean batted him back and then frowned at the watchman,

"Did you say there were three men?"

"Oh yeth, you know they come every night and pour over that hole of theirth and use thith place like they own it."

Dusty seemed cross which was probably little wonder since the building that he had been hired to look out for had been turned into something of a criminal hideout on his watch. But then if he _knew_ his beloved ruin was being shanghaied then why in the world had he not called in the cops, instead of standing and watching them tear up the floorboards? Unless they had paid him to keep silent of course.

"Detective Ambrose?"

Bo had kept up the tapping on his shoulder blade, which had started out weak but then built up to a constant beat, which was beginning to form a bruise over his clavicle and the sensation of which made him sharply whirl back with a growl of growing parental irritation,

"Fuckin' what man?"

"I think the ghosts are coming our way now, because I sure can hear them."

"Bo I keep tellin' you there _are_ no – ,"

Dean stopped.

Because somewhere beyond the room back out in the corridor, or potentially on the staircase, a loose floorboard suddenly creaked and then one more and then more and more in succession like a procession of boot soles were busy clunking their way and which could _theoretically_ have been a blundering poltergeist except that Dean was pretty sure they tended to hover instead of walk and which therefore meant that someone else was headed towards them. Or possibly several people based on the thumping noise and repeated creaks.

 _Multiple_ people were coming towards them. Or likely only _three_ people. Dean looked up towards their guide,

"Have those three drug dealers been here tonight at all?"

"Not that I know thon."

"God damn it."

It was them. Because who the hell else would be out there so early trying not to break their ankles on the holes in the floor and braving the possibility of structural implosion without having a compelling reason. Like a bundle of powdered coke, or because they _happened_ to have themselves a pain in the ass informant who had no freaking concept of what working hours were, but who evidently _was_ possessed of pretty good hearing.

Dean shoved him over towards the tall cabinets,

"Bo hide _now_."

"F-from the ghosts?"

The poor little puppy looked totally terrified, but Dean had limited time to settle his nerves, so simply shoved him super roughly behind the bank of rusted cabinets in the tiny little space where they backed up against the wall before putting a finger to his lips to try and emphasize that for once in his life the kid fucking _needed_ to shut up . Then he turned back through the billowing dust clouds towards the mahogany desk he had picked out for himself, since places to hide were pretty damn minimal considering the place had been completely emptied out.

Dusty however remained on the floorboards.

But like _right_ where he was one hundred and ten percent in view, which Dean only realized as he skidded into his hiding place and then peaked around the corner out towards the corridor, where the multiple heavy feet were trampling in closer and where the beams of several flashlights were beginning to show up. He scrabbled to turn his own off pretty rapidly but then notice the custodian stalled on the floor and so hissed at him harshly through the gloom,

"Hey, get down man."

But as the feet clattered in he hunkered back with a low curse and then lost sight of their guide behind the desk. He winced in suspense though and then pulled his gun loose as he waited for the three men to trample into the room and notice the custodian in a probable hail of gunfire.

But seemingly no.

Because even though the men unmistakably crossed the threshold, none of them reacted like they had seen someone there and instead continued to talk in low rumbles and bursts of contented laughter as they headed towards their stash, which Dean had thankfully remembered to return to normal before he had hidden.

So where the hell had Dusty gone?

Beyond him one of the criminals grumbled,

"I'm telling you man I hate this old place, I always feel like somebody's watching me."

Dean felt his lips turn up a bit at that. In response however someone snorted harshly as the men trampled heavily towards the hidden stash and Dean took the chance and the noise of their footsteps to cover him as he changed position to take a better look. It revealed the three newcomers fully for the first time and in all their lurid glory too because _holy hell_ they were weirdly dressed, to the point that they looked like a rap group from the nineties.

He blinked a bit.

He had never seen so much yellow in his life.

Particularly on the smallest man in the collective, who was wearing a black but mostly canary colored shirt with a black du-rag that in no way suited his white skin tone and a pair of yellow shades with a _second_ pair over that. Clearly it was some kind of signature look he was working on, but it frankly looked ridiculous at four thirty A.M, because what in the hell was he protecting his eyes from? Maybe it was a necessary reaction to his shirt, or else the hair color possessed by his fellow scumbag, since the other small man there had one hell of a do, with bleached blonde tresses that had been styled up so damn high they physically stood out of his wide brimmed red hat, that at some point the guy had freaking _scissored_ the top from. He looked like one of those stupid cress pots you gave to kids.

But their third man was the worst.

By a long _long_ way.

Except not in terms of clothing at least, because he was cloaked entirely in simple black leather, even though it looked way too shiny to be real, or anything more than really cheap plastic, but at least it made him look less of a tool than his friends. Frankly though it paled into insignificance based on the size of him, because holy fuck the man was huge, with bleached blonde hair swept back and gelled closely and a tiny little bleached blonde matching goatee.

Dean wished suddenly he had called on his teammates, because three on three was a _way_ better prospect than three on one, plus an informant that was basically a puppy and one overweight and lisping old man. Provided that the bulky custodian even _was_ there, because it seemed like he pretty much faded into thin air, which at least saved _him_ from having to burst out from his cover to try and save the guy.

Nope.

His whole plan was to lie low. But like super low. As low as anyone had ever laid before ever in the history of lying low. It wasn't brave but it would keep them safe and so all he needed was to stay completely silent and for the others to follow.

Bo sneezed suddenly.

" _Atishoo_ – ."

Except it wasn't an everyday basic sneeze however, which would have been bad _enough_ since they were _supposed_ to be hunkered low. Instead it was a nasal explosion so violent that it threw the man forwards in such a propulsion that he knocked into one of the cabinets which immediately toppled into the next, which then hit the _next_ one and the next one and next one so that the entire row of cupboards turned into fucking _dominos_ and threw up long filed papers and rocked the whole building before clearing to reveal the hapless moron.

Bo freaking _waved_.

"Hello there friends."

For a moment there was silence as the three men before him simply blinked in what was probably base levels of shock. But naturally for men who had been hardened by criminality their reflexes kicked in pretty damn fast, meaning that at the same time collective hands moved for their waistbands, Dean was up and back on his feet too, in a haphazard skid over the super creaky floorboards with his own gun held up,

"Hold it there scumbags. Police."

It worked badly.

Not that he had bet on the thing going _well_ exactly, but somehow the three guns being pointed towards him hadn't factored into his saving the day. Luckily though his _own_ reflexes were sharply honed enough to handle them, since he piled sideways into his informant with a bellow.

"Bo look out."

 _Bang-bang-bang-bang._

Bullets whistled too close above them but at least it was better than being _in_ them he guessed and so Dean took that as a win before rolling himself over and holding up his gun up to fire more shots and keep their enemies low which he recovered.

"Fuck this man, I'm not killing no cop for this shit."

"Me either, I'm outta here."

"I told you somebody was watching us."

Dean looked up at the sudden burst of shouting in time to see two of the guys turning on their tails, but dropping the flashlight in the hurry to make their getaway which then bathed the room with a pool of bright white. It shone up first the desk and then the floating dust particles, blown by the bullets from the fabric of the room but then similarly highlighted the black plastic leatherwear stood tall before the window and glowering at him.

"Awe crap."

It seemed the big man was still there and nor was he happy at being shot at, since he promptly put the firearm back into his pants, then began to surge forward with his hands held out in front of him before passing clean from the beams of the torch, which forced the copper blonde to simply fire into the darkness in hopes of hitting him. But nope, he missed, because the _next_ thing Dean knew the gun was knocked from his fingers as big paws fell into place on his neck, hauling him back up and onto his feet again for what he could tell would be a bloodthirsty scrap.

Dean moved first.

 _Bam_.

He threw a fist into the midsection which made the blubber sort of _wobble_ in response, but had no effect beyond simply pissing the guy off a _second_ time considering he then swung his own knuckles up. Only _holy crap_ it felt like a wrecking ball as it flew into his ribcage and blew Dean physically up off his feet, so that he pitched back and landed spine-first on the boarded window before falling forward limply.

He could have sworn he felt his liver exploding and maybe even a lung too since the act of breathing was _no_ fun.

Hands fell on him heavily.

"Fuck – ,"

The bark came out in panic as he was tossed back again behind the weight of a sucker punch, which landed on his lip and then bust it clean open, because the pain was a familiar one and so too was the warm and iron tainted slickness which trickled over his taste buds. His brothers would probably freak out over about that. Provided he lived just long enough to tell them he had been beaten to a pulp without calling them for help.

Dean put his hands up to try and poke an eye out, but the man monster before him merely swatted them like flies then moved his meaty paddles to press in on Dean's windpipe but which pretty much swallowed up his entire freaking neck. Each one was the size of twelve person pizza, but with the strength of a boa constrictor or bull elephant to boot.

He could see his gun but was powerless to reach it.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was fresh out of options, so continued to simply try his best to struggle loose, but which was taking its toll on his limited resources and which would probably have failed had bulky face not then popped up. From out of nowhere in the literal blink of an eyelid to peer over the shoulder of the monolithic man, who seemed to have no clue that the newcomer was there with them.

Huh?

Dean blinked.

Dusty Rhodes was back.

But he was wearing a look that the lawman hadn't seen before, since previously the man had seemed cheerfully bright. Now though he was wearing an unholy death glare that made Dean actually shiver. It was a pretty impressive feat, since the expression was not even being levelled towards him but instead at the man with the hands around his throat, who the custodian then cleared his throat at pretty super duper casually, like they were stood in line somewhere or were in his way.

" _Heh-hem_."

Dean watched the sweat beaded brow line in front of him fold up in confusion then slowly look back, whereupon Dusty threw a toothy little smile out and then wet his lips like he was preparing himself, or like he was about to read the opening lines of Othello in a local performance.

Instead he said one word.

"Boo."

Hardly a classic in terms of modern literature but it certainly had one hell of an effect, since the hands that had been squeezing Dean's throat to oblivion loosened up in a heartbeat as the man skedaddled back, with a look like he had seen the damn ghost of his mother or the grim reaper in the corner casually sharpening his axe. But nope, because instead it was a bulky retiree who had uttered a single syllable that had barely been a threat.

Dean fell forwards as he was released and thumbed his neck line, but his wannabe murderer moved even faster than that, in a madcap scramble towards the night blackened threshold, even as Dean choked a sentence out,

"Hey, stop – ,"

Honestly it seemed like a fairly pointless order since the man was in a literal freaking _bolt_ towards the door but happily in the end it turned out not to matter, because pretty much at the very last possible second, Bo without warning suddenly stuck out his foot and then winced as the human boulder crashed heavily into it before taking to the sky like a skier off the slopes and letting loose a low sounding note of sudden panic as he tumbled like an avalanche into the opposite wall and then knocked himself clean out.

Bo blinked at him,

"Ooh ouchie."

Dean coughed back,

"Fuck, nice work, that was awesome man."

Not words that Dean ever thought he would say to the puppy, but he meant them, even though they came out husky and scratched. Evidently he sounded like hot crap personified and in response Dusty Rhodes swept in hurriedly to look, peering in towards him and blinking with a chuckle as his usual happy face returned again,

"Ooh, lookth like you need a little ith on that there thon, gonna bruith up _real_ good."

Dean coughed at him a second time and then flapped a hand,

"Nah, I've had worse, trust me."

Nor was he kidding either. He truly freaking had, which included being strangled a whole hell of a lot harder by a former police hero who had been completely insane and so therefore on his rankings of nearly being choked out his latest brush with near death registered pretty damn low. Even if the marks would probably last a little longer.

Dusty chuckled back at him,

"Oh now I'm thure you have thon."

"But, y' know, thanks for helpin' out man, like, I totally owe you, even though I have no freakin' _clue_ where you were hid."

Because beyond the filing cabinets that Bo had knocked over and the big old wooden desk there was nowhere left to go. Although instead of replying Dusty let his eyes twinkle and then tapped on his nose like some things were best not known and which Dean was on board with, well at least _theoretically_. After all, he believed in Bigfoot, so lifelong mysteries were in his zone.

Bo lifted a hand up,

"Detective Ambrose? I hear more footsteps."

Dean could too, but only a single pair this time, even though it still made him bodily propel his informant backwards to a spot somewhere behind him where the custodian also was and where the copper blonde could hopefully keep them protected as a flashlight beam lit up the corridor beyond. He scooped his gun back up and trained it on the doorway, expecting the drug runners.

But instead a new voice barked out,

"What in the world?"

Dean barked,

"Police, step into the light and put your hands up."

In response a nervous looking face popped round the door in a way which pretty much confirmed in an instant that the newcomer was _not_ a part of the poorly styled cocaine gang, since he had obviously never had a weapon held in his face before and was keen to comply. His elbows shot above his head and he hurriedly trampled in over the prone body with wild white eyes and his flashlight shaking.

"Don't shoot."

Dean remained growly,

"Might wanna tell me who you are then, an' real fast too before I start gettin' twitchy here."

In front of him the man blew a huffy sounding breath out,

"I'm the night watchman."

Dean blinked back in surprise.

Huh?

Because honestly it had seemed pretty freaking unlikely that there had been even _one_ man being paid to hawkeye the place, since not only was it a pretty vast and sprawling sort of complex, but most of it was falling to pieces as they looked and so therefore it seemed pointless trying to protect it from _anything_ when it would probably have been better to let nature take its course. Not to mention it would probably have been cheaper and easier than bringing the bulldozers and wrecking balls in.

He knitted his brows together,

"Hold up a freakin' second, so the _two_ of you let those criminals in? Because that is _not_ cool man."

The nervous man frowned at him,

"I'm not sure precisely what you mean by _the two of us_."

"Dusty and you."

"Dusty?"

He looked totally confused, much like Bo tended to look when asked what the time was, or what type of topping he wanted on his pizza or if he was okay, or even spoke to him _at all_ , but which seemed completely crazy because the man they were referring to was still stood behind them way too big to be ignored and so to that end Dean threw his eyes to the heavens and then turned with a terse hand wave.

"Come on man, your teammate here."

Bo hummed out a bewildered note behind him,

"Um, Detective Ambrose?"

"What?"

Dean looked back with a hiss and then suddenly clued into the sinking realization that his perky informant was the only person there. Because at some point their paunchy tour guide had turned and bumbled off again. Except for the fact that no way _could_ he have, since there only one freaking way out of the room and Dean had been staring at the thing the whole time and _besides_ which there was nowhere else in the room he could have hidden and particularly not a man of his sheer size and bulk.

Bo stated the obvious with a frown,

"Mr Rhodes has gone."

"No shit man, thanks for the fuckin' bulletin," Dean snapped back, "Tell you what, I'll come to you in ten for the breakfast news, huh?"

Back in front of him the _other_ custodian cleared his throat,

"Did you say Rhodes?"

Dean spun back in a silent _yes_ manoeuvre and then watched as the willowy man scratched at his neck, then looked up towards the ceiling like he was thinking about something. Dean ran out of patience on the matter pretty fast,

"Come on man, what?"

"Now there _was_ a man called Rhodes here, back when the place first opened, because he used to come by to visit the once in a while, even when they started to cover over the windows and stuck up that big _for sale_ board out in front. But I'm sorry to have to tell you that he passed on three years back."

Dean knocked the heel of his palm on his temple because no way was this real.

"But he was right fuckin' _here_."

Except —

Dean blinked.

Except that maybe he never _had_ been, because the more he thought it over the more things started to stand out. Like the way the man had never triggered the creaky ass floorboards _or_ left a single footprint in spite of his weight. Or the way he had been able to flit in and out so rapidly and why his wannabe choker had been so totally freaked out, because the bastard had seen what the copper blonde had looked past or else never been shown.

His...ghost side?

"Holy fuck."

From somewhere beside him his informant moved slightly and then cleared his throat because _of course_ he was confused. Except for once he wasn't the only one baffled because there was a very tiny chance that Dean had been saved by a freaking ghost, which was going to be impossible to sell to his brothers, even though he intended to repeat it word for word when the pair of them stumbled panicking into the warehouse later.

Bo tapped his elbow,

"Detective Ambrose, where did he go?"

"No fuckin' clue man."

Dean blinked back then shivered as a chill ran through him which rattled his bones and made him snort out a wry sort of half laugh because it certainly had been one hell of a night, which had left him with a bust lip and fifty kilograms of powder, not to mention a possible meeting with a poltergeist thrown in.

Bo Dallas would officially be the freaking death of him. For better or for worse.

Nope, totally worse.

Fucking Bo.

* * *

 **Next week (Christmas Eve...is it me or has it come up quickly?!) Dean and Seth get themselves into a little holiday situation with two new guest characters. Hopefully I'll see you then!**


	31. Worst Christmas Ever

**Okay everybody! Merry Christmas! I cannot believe I am on my second Christmas themed one shot in this series. I can still remember writing the first one! Thank you so much for sticking with these one shots and this crazy little AU world I have made. Hopefully you'll enjoy this Christmas instalment. I like to think it has a little something for everyone!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, *Takes bow* Why thank you muchly. Hope it wasn't too spooky!**

 **Rebel8954, Awww, you're welcome. I liked having Dusty in there (ethereal or otherwise) plus, deciding to put Bo in this universe (and having him get progressively more idiotic) is just as much of a joy to me as I hope it is to everyone else! He's the moron that just keeps on giving!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Ooh good, I was going for creepy vibes in that last one! As for Roman, well, don't count him out yet. Maybe I've been extra good to you for Christmas by putting him here and uploading a Little Brother chapter on the same day too. Lots of Roman!**

 **Mandy, As always, I'm glad I could help. I know you've had a tough year, so I hope you can kick back and relax over the holidays and remember those who aren't there with happiness and not sadness. In the meantime, my gift to you is some Seth and Dean time. I knew you would like that teaser. Hope you like the full thing!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Oooh thank, I've never gotten an 'ingenious' before! Dusty felt like a good fit for that one. Sometimes a superstar just seems to slot in and work. Except for Bo, Bo never really works in the helpful sense, but boy oh boy is that maniac a whole lot of fun! Two more fun characters in this one (well, I hope they are!)**

 **Cheryl24, I was going to agree with you about the neutering thing, but then I got to thinking about a pack of baby Bo's running around and I figured that it was only fair that one day the world got to see that. So no neutering for him!**

 **Skovko, Absolutely, ghost Dusty rocks! I was trying super hard not to make it obvious he was a ghost while at the same time giving clues. I hope I tricked you! Luckily this one is a lot less cerebral. Just good old fashioned Christmas chaos!**

 **Minnie1015, Oh I like that! The ghost of Christmas Past it is then! More cameos in this one who could almost be as fun as Bo…or okay, not quite because no one is as fun as Bo. I was thinking the other day I should do one with Bo's family. But can you imagine? Maybe that would be too crazy?...Nah, no such thing!**

 **It's Chrisssstttttmmmmmaaaaassssss…**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Worst Christmas Ever**

 **Christmas Eve: 8.55pm**

Dean nodded his head in time to the music that was playing on a backbeat somewhere in his brain, then hammered his hands on the console of the town car as he provided the guitar solo in hummed out little growl and mumbled the words to the lines he could remember,

"Home alone at the age of thirteen...glad we talked…"

Nineties rock ruled.

Beyond him the world outside was shrouded in darkness with the exception of the glow of the street lamps overhead, which splashed pools of hot light onto the sidewalk to beat away the cold midwinter blues.

It was barely even nine but the streets of their city were unusually peaceful and even more bizarrely _still_ , which would have worried him fiercely had it been a _regular_ midweek since it likely would have meant that something big was in the works. But which thankfully for once only filled him with contentment because the evening was a special one.

It was freaking Christmas Eve.

Dean lessened his taping to something more bebopish then looked out through the window to the bank machine beyond, where the younger of his teammates, best friends and brothers was taking out some cash so their broke asses could pay the toll and cross the bridge that stood between their state and where the Rollins homestead was.

Because Dean was spending the holidays with them.

Like the only child of divorced parents or something and pretty much freaking _literally_ too, since his brothers had worked it out at the briefing table one morning, complete with monthly planners and actual _charts_ which they had used to make sure that either one or the other of them had their copper blonde member for all major holidays and events.

Roman had taken him home for Thanksgiving. Seth was taking Christmas.

It was an even handed split and one that Dean himself had no problems getting on board with, because even though he had bitched and stomped like a baby and insisted he that he would totally have been happier on his own, the year before when he had been hauled back with Roman to spend the holiday with the assorted Reigns clan, had been a lot of fun and nice and sort of _warm_ and so to that end he was looking forward to taking his turn with the Rollins clan.

It was nice to be wanted.

Not that he would ever have said that part.

He looked up briefly as the street lighting flickered to see Seth heading back with a pacey little step, because the man had a carefully ordered schedule to keep to and thanks to their mound of paperwork they were running kind of late and he was keen to get to his parents' house before midnight, which seemed pretty unlikely.

Seth stepped off into the street, but as he crossed in front of the closed up bank windows Dean saw a shape — or _thought_ he saw one — beyond, like there was somebody in the closed and fully locked for the holidays building and which he squinted towards a second time.

Maybe it had just been a trick of the glaze?

His brother clambered back in beside him,

"Damn it. I had hoped to be out on the interstate by now already."

He was wearing a thick coat zippered up to his beard growth, with baseball cap perched at a twisted angle on his head, so that the peak sat over his ear and not his features and which Dean knew he would take off when they were nearly at his folks' house since his mother would probably kick up a fuss and then deliver a long lecture on the perils of winter ear ache, or possibly pneumonia or something like that.

He went to turn the keys and the copper blonde prodded him,

"Do you see that, or is it just me?"

"Do I see what man?"

Dean pointed through the window and nearly stabbed his brother right in the eye, which meant that before he turned to look in the right direction, Seth shot him a glare that would have melted ice, but then followed the pointing finger towards the blackened window, which seemed completely locked up and well, _normal_.

Seth frowned,

"Uh, what exactly am I looking for here man?"

"Right there."

Dean waved his hand and sure enough in the gloomy store front in what had looked like solid blackness, a shadowy figure flitted by. But only in a momentary _hint_ of a person which was by no means conclusive but made the technical man's heartbeat rise and then _keep_ pounding as his policeman head screamed at him and as his senses ran wild. Because he sure knew what it had _looked_ like.

Fleetingly it had _looked_ like a bank robbery in progress and in response to it he let out a groan,

"Oh _come_ _on_."

Reaching for his gun with some heavy resignation, he stepped back out onto the bitterly cold street. Dean followed him hastily, copying the movement and then trotted round towards him as they both instinctively kept low in a cautious but steadily little stalk towards the window, which they took either side of in a classic pincer type move.

Dean chanced a look in.

Halogen bulbs were burning somewhere in the background beyond the counters where he figured the bank vaults were, but for a second it seemed like maybe they were _meant_ to be, like a security feature, because everything else was super still.

Except for the man who bustled right by him.

Holy crap.

Dean flattened himself pretty rapidly against the wall and then looked to where Seth was blinking back in sheer cluelessness waiting for some type of a status report. He replied to by holding up a solitary finger since he knew there was at least _one_ criminal in there who had been kinda of tall _ish_ but not too brawny which was a good thing for them, since their powerhouse was on a flight to spend the holidays with his parents and their large extended family. Because _holy hell_ was it large. He had _third_ cousins twice removed.

Dean had no cousins.

Moving super carefully he tested the main door out, which opened up perfectly as he bit on his tongue. It was a technique he employed when he needed to concentrate, or in the times that he needed to be silent and in control, since his usual state of being involved talking and mumbling with some cussing and punching thrown in for good luck.

Seth moved in closer and then crouched low beside him,

"He went in through the front?"

"M' thinkin' maybe the guy is new, or this is his first time hittin' a bank up. But either way, I mean, like, the guy has some _balls_."

Dean threw in a chuckle with his impressed sounding statement and in response to it his brother somewhat wearily rolled his eyes, because however impressive the size of the testicles their brazen bank robber was screwing up their Christmas Eve and keen to handle things then get back to his schedule, Seth crept over the threshold in a low bodied crouch and then listened as the copper blonde followed in behind him out of the bitterness and onto the thin carpet beyond.

Dean reached over to tap him,

"Hey, can you hear that?"

His brother blinked momentarily and then let out a hissed out groan,

"Is this guy freaking _singing_?"

Because lo and behold cutting in through the silence was the chirpy bounce of someone happily muttering a song out and even throwing in the occasional guitar cord so that Dean was briefly caught between wanting to throw the book at him and wanting to go to a rock concert with the man, since the tune he was barking was one of his favorites.

"Hey, I like this one."

Seth however was less conflicted,

"Come on Dean."

"But this one has that lick that – ,"

"For crying out loud man, the bank is being robbed."

"Fine," Dean huffed in response to him, "But we are _totally_ listenin' to it _in full_ when this is over."

His little brother blew out a breath then shook his head, in characteristic long suffering gesture before peeling himself from their shadowed hiding spot and beginning to flank the long barricaded counter where the cashiers normally worked. There was a door at one end, which _someone_ had stupidly propped wide open, presumably to clear some type of getaway path and there was a pale splash of light pooling out from beyond it, along with the music.

Dean bit back the need to hum. Or well, bit it back mostly, but hell it was catchy.

Beyond the customer section with its pot plants and navy carpet the remainder of the bank was perfunctorily plain, with blank whitewashed walls and a long expanse of corridor that led them to where the overhead lights had been turned on and to a large metal door that was thicker than _they_ were and recognizable at once.

Because their man was _in_ the vault.

Keeping close to the wall they slunk silently towards it and then paused for a second with their hearts in their throats and the same rush of blood and pumped up excitement that they always had prior to kicking some bad guy butt, which was weirdly addictive and probably the reason that the three of them had stayed on the force for so long.

Looking across Seth slowly counted them in on his fingers.

"Three…two…one…"

Both of them instantly moved on _none_ in a literal headfirst launch through the opening with their guns pointed out and centred in a second on a table in the middle where their baffled criminal was stood, surrounded by opened up security deposit boxes, the contents of which he was hooking out into a bag.

No wonder the guy had sounded so happy.

It was Seth who bellowed at him,

"Police, put your hands up. _Right_ up where we can see them, do it now man, no more warnings."

Even though he was clearly heart attack levels of startled, the heister complied to the command in a flash. But in bewilderment — or else through a natural streak of stubbornness — he kept hold of a necklace that was tangled in his hand and whose expensive looking gemstones were twinkling in the halogens that were buzzing up an electrical _storm_ over their heads.

 _Ballsy Man_ then chuckled,

"Whoa fellers, _whoa_ now, maybe we can talk about this whole thing here?"

The man had an accent. Heavily Southern. Like he would have been at home in a saloon in the old west.

He was tall but not too brawny with hair that was reddish colored in a short back and sides look and held in place with a _ton_ of mousse that continued on into a close cropped beard and 'tache combo that met beneath a thin and fairly pointed little nose. His hopeful eyes were brown and too close together, which _should_ have theoretically made him look like a threat, but which was compensated for totally by the wide smile he was wearing, like somehow he thought the three of them could be friends.

Seth made it clear that _no way_ was that an option,

"Keep your hands up man."

"Whoa now, be cool."

Dean bit out a snort as his brother took his cuffs out, because _of course_ Seth carried them in the back pocket of his pants, since the man was practically a living breathing robot lawman, in spite of him no longer having the title or the badge. Or at least not officially.

Dean jerked a thumb towards him,

"Yeah, bein' cool has never really been his _thing_."

Seth shot him a look,

"Dean."

"Uh, but like, I mean that in the best way, because _your_ thing is bein' all professional an' shit. Like with your computer skills, an' bein' kinda _hyped up_. But not in bein' laidback because that is _totally_ not you dude."

Seth rolled his eyes in frustration,

"Gee thanks man."

Dean scratched at his head with the butt of his gun and then opened his mouth to try to haul himself out of what seemed to be a large hole he had dug, but the weapon was then knocked from his hand altogether as something hit him super hard from behind, like some sort of wrecking ball had been swung into his vertebrae although it seemed to have thick arms which looped around him and then locked, so that whatever gorilla was trying the backwards bear hug propelled them both forwards.

"What the — holy fuck man."

Dean closed his eyes and then threw his hands up.

But the thick metal door still rose up super hard, so that he and his tackler bounced bodily into it and then tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs and with him bucking and kicking and elbowing like crazy in the heat of the moment and in his need to bust loose. In the end however he simply clamped his teeth to a forearm, having learnt from his younger brother.

There was a howl.

"Hey, did you just take a _bite_ out of me?"

"Let him go."

In the background Dean heard Seth bellow the warning, but before his little brother could help him out further, the redheaded criminal they had believed was working solo reached a hand towards his waistband a pulled out a shooter of his own, which was tiny but still a gun and so therefore a freaking problem. Only one which the tech man was clueless to.

Shit.

Dean hissed at him in breathless tones as he struggled,

"Seth look out – ,"

But his brother was fully on the back foot and needing to protect him the copper blonde lifted his own gun and pointed it back at the thinner first thief, even as the big newcomer that was suckered to his spinal cord pulled loose a _fourth_ gun and pressed it up to his head, so that everybody there had a barrel pointed at someone in the most complex standoff since the beginning of space and time.

Nobody moved or even _breathed_ funny in case it triggered a shootout.

Everything was still.

Except for the creaking noise which made them blink in mass confusion before each of them registered the hefty vault door, which the earlier tackle had thrown the copper blonde into and the power of which had nudged the hinges a touch, since thing was starting to inch towards closing.

"Holy crap, we gotta stop that."

Everybody launched up in a screwball comedy type tangle of limbs, tripping over one another as they burst towards the exit with the guns and their mortal enemy status near forgotten in the panic of potentially finding themselves trapped in.

Predictably Seth was at the front of scramble thanks to weekly yoga and his bizarre obsession with CrossFit, but his copper blonde brother was only a few steps behind, with the redhead and the tackler both bringing the rear up and which for a _second_ looked like it would be worth the breathless run.

Except nope.

Seth hit the metal a fraction too late to stop it.

"Damn it, no no no…"

There was a thud and then a clunk and by the time the others reached him it was already whirring as the mechanisms locked. Realistically of course it meant there was no real point in pulling, or trying to wrench it back open by hand, but naturally each of them tried to do it anyway like their combined strength could counteract thirty inch metal and with no small amount of panic.

"Come on, get it open man."

" _How_ exactly?"

It was Seth who shot the question back tersely at the redheaded criminal that had barked the thing out and at which point they remembered that they were all holding weapons and that two of them were bank robbers while the other two were cops. Rapidly they all lifted the firearms back to chest height and eyeballed each other.

Ring the match bell.

Round two.

Fortunately the newly changed perspectives of the standoff meant that Dean could have a look at the man who had tackled him before, which revealed a guy the shape of a barrel with a head and shoulders but no hint of a neck and with long black hair that hung kind of _scraggly_ but at least matched the moustache and chin based patch of fuzz.

Dean glared at him heatedly,

"Might wanna give this up here an' lower the weapons."

"Well now 'bout you boys first?" the redheaded criminal shot back, but his tone trembled slightly because whatever his broader scheme was, being locked in a bank vault had obviously not been part of the plan.

Meanwhile his bulky compadre remained silent, which made Dean figure that he was probably the muscle man and therefore not trusted to be the company spokesman.

Seth barked in response,

"Come on man, we're the _cops_ , which means you can make it a whole lot easier on yourself here by giving up now."

"Like I said friend, you first."

The mood was going from bad straight through to worse and so to that end Dean suddenly cleared his throat roughly and then gestured towards the table in the middle of the vault, where the lockable boxes full of valuables had been piled up as their criminal pairing had rifled through them one by one.

"I think I _might_ have an idea."

"Better hear it then."

"How 'bout we lock the guns in a safety deposit box an' then toss the key or somethin' so that no one get in, because m' not sure 'bout you but m' not super excited at the thought of havin' to spend the next twelve hours pointin' this thing."

For a second no one spoke.

But he could tell in the way that two men stood beyond them exchanged a rapid glance that they were debating amongst themselves and which only really had one logical solution, because if they kept waving the guns then _one_ of them would end up shot – either through hatred or else sheer exhaustion – which none of them wanted.

Beside him Seth remained quiet, but the copper blonde knew that his brother was with him totally, because when their backs were to the wall it was what their team did _and_ because for once he had made a smart suggestion.

Eventually the redheaded man nodded,

"Deal, but no tricks."

Dean snorted,

"Good news, 'cos I left my magic set in my _other_ pants."

The sarcasm earned him a unimpressed smile, but he tested their brand new covenant by slowly stepping sideways and watching as the criminals both copied the move, keeping their eyes and weapons trained the whole time as they shuffled towards the table an inch at a time. Nor was that even the most complicated part of it, since _then_ there was the question of who would hand over their weapon first, which turned out to be none of them.

Redhead put a hand up,

"Now how 'bout we go at exactly the same time here?"

Dean shrugged back,

"I mean, I guess that _sounds_ fair, but m' gonna repeat that whole _no trick_ line from earlier."

The redhead chuckled back at him,

"Now do I look that smart to you?"

Beside them Seth let out a testy little mumble but then stepped towards the nearest open safety deposit box, which was mirrored on the other side of the little metal table by the man that had taken Dean clean out before and whose biceps were practically exploding through his shirt sleeves and were liable to ping loose and blind a person.

Probably him.

Dean stepped in too and the redhead man copied.

He was still freaking beaming.

"How 'bout we go on three?"

Dean blinked,

"How about we hurry up and get a freakin' move on?"

Each of the four of them let their firearms go instantly, which clattered into the base of the sturdy metal box whereupon Seth hastily slammed the lid then fastened it with the key that had been helpfully left in the lock from the earlier interrupted burglary campaign and which was possibly the first real break they had encountered since busting their way in there some ten long minutes before.

Redhead waved a finger at them,

"Now hand the key over."

Seth coughed,

"Oh come on man, I'm not giving it to you. We caught you robbing a freaking bank vault."

"So that makes you better than us?"

"For christ sakes man, we're the _cops_."

"My point exactly."

The conversation was going nowhere and what was more was that it threatened to bust their ceasefire open wide, which was probably the reason that the _second_ of the criminals then reached in between them and snatched the key loose.

"Hey."

Dean presumed the guy would then tuck it in his pocket or something else halfway sensible. But obviously not, since instead he put it on his tongue and fucking _swallowed_ it before smiling and smacking his lips together.

"Holy fuck," Dean spluttered back, in an undeniable measure of hero worship,

"Now nobody has it."

Predictably however Seth went off like an exocet.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you some kind of idiot? Because if that thing gets stuck in your stomach, what then _huh_? Seeing we'll be trapped in here for the next thirty six hours what with it being a freaking holiday tomorrow. Unless you forgot that?"

The redhead blinked,

"Damn."

Because _he_ certainly had. But his bulkier friend remained unmoved by the statement, or at least on the surface since he threw back an easy shrug and then patted his barrel-like but hard enough sounding belly in a way that suggested it had never failed him before. Briefly it made Dean wonder what and how many _other_ random objects the guy had hoovered up over the course of his life and also the condition that the things came back out in.

Meanwhile the redhead was having a conniption.

"Thirty six _hours_?"

"I mean at least," Seth replied, "But I don't know man, maybe more."

In response the criminal surged forward in panic and grabbed Seth up by the collar of his shirt. Dean stepped in and shunted him off again with a frown that suggested he not try it again, but their previously stalwart criminal was far too busy freaking to notice that he had peed off two combat ready cops and instead ran his hands through his mousse encrusted hairdo.

"Well then call someone man and make them come and bust us outta."

"Do you have any idea how thick this vault is?"

The redhead pulled his cell out,

"Oh _come on_ , this is crazy."

But sure enough no matter how much he shook at it or paced around the room the reception bars stayed low and which _therefore_ meant that the four of them were trapped there in a totally empty bank on the cusp of Christmas Day, with no way to let people know where they had gone to and no option but to try and wait it out.

"But I got kids."

 **Christmas Eve: 10.55pm**

For the next of what would likely be a whole _bunch_ of hours, each of the groups claimed a side of the sealed in space and then slid to the ground with their backs to the boxes that lined the thick and windowless walls. To help pass the time, Dean banged his skull into them backwards, in a repeated little rhythm he barely knew he had started up, or at least not until his younger brother noticed.

"Hey man, stop before you hurt yourself."

"Stop what?"

Putting a hand out Seth provided a buffer that the copper blonde fluff then thudded lightly back against and clued the undercover man into the problem. Oh. Blowing out a sigh he instead stretched his legs out and then began to pick a flap of skin beside his thumb, before shunning that in favor of scratching his neck lone, because the more and more he thought about their predicament the more and more unsettled he felt.

Seth hushed his voice so it stayed in between them,

"Feeling like you're back there?"

"Kinda," Dean shrugged.

Neither one of them needed to go into the specifics of where the _back there_ he was talking about was, because both of them could remember pulling Dean out of the coffin having hauled the covering earth from the top with bare hands and they certainly both remembered the subsequent meltdown three months later when they had briefly been trapped in an elevator car.

But since then nothing.

No panics and no freak outs.

Not that Dean had made it a habit to be trapped, but slowly over months of watching suspects in their surveillance truck and the fact that Kevin had been securely locked up, had helped to ease the initial bursts of panic and so too had his best friends and them simply being _there_ in the year that had followed his being buried by a psychopath.

But the bank vault was testing him.

It was so fucking _close_.

Hot too.

How come no one else seemed to be as hot as he was and besides which, how much oxygen was there even in the thing and at what point was it rational to start to freak out completely?

Seth brought him back again.

"Eggnog and gingerbread."

Dean blinked.

"Is this some sort holiday food _tourettes_ thing you have dude?"

His brother snorted back then rolled his eyes a little, but his free hand was kneading loosely through the copper blonde hair in the same way that Roman tended to use to try and calm him when his whole _twitchy thing_ was beginning to bleed through and which their littlest brethren was either trying to copy or had started without realizing.

He had a good technique though.

Dean left him to it.

"My poor mom has probably whipped a _million_ batches of them up now, or is stood at the stove with a bottle of bourbon making the strongest thing you ever tasted in your life. I mean honestly it tastes horrible but at this point it's tradition."

Dean blew a sigh out and then smiled,

"Yeah, sounds nice."

Because he could totally picture Mama Rollins in her apron, stirring a gallon of hooch into a pan as she waited for her son and his crazy ass teammate to turn up for the big chaotic Christmas that they were patently now _not_ going to have. It was a crying shame really and not totally for her sake either, because Dean been looking forward to a family holiday, since it turned out that he had missed them in the years since his girl had passed, not to mention everything else she had ever forced him to embrace.

He cleared his throat.

No point in losing himself in _that_ rabbit hole and so to that end he leaned himself closer into the tousling fingers and tried to make out like he was _not_ a giant mess, since talk of Mama Rollins had fuelled him with hopefulness and a possible means of escape.

"How long will it take her to sound the alarm?"

His brother checked his wristwatch,

"Maybe three hours."

Dean opened his mouth to tentatively broach the oxygen thing, but was segued by a bark that bounced back in off the walls at them and which was thrown out with a frown by their panicky bank robbing redhead friend, who was positively beading trails of sweat over his brow line in either a bout of claustrophobia or a menopausal hot flash. Or maybe even the thought of a prison cell with his name on it.

"Hey, what are you two boys sayin' over there?"

Dean rolled his eyes,

"We were plannin' our big escape man, because m' pretty sure I can probably like _MacGyver_ my way out if I can maybe find a bobby pin, a compact mirror an' a ticket stub in one of the deposit boxes we got in this place. Or maybe like a grenade or something explosive."

Redhead blinked back in pitiful hopefulness,

"Really?"

" _No_."

Dean screwed his face up and then watched as the redheaded man narrowed his eyes, but on the plus side the bulky man who had tackled him earlier laughed in appreciation, which was bizarre but kind of nice and which was then emphasised by him waggling a chunky finger over the flooring,

"I kinda like you kid, so you got a name?"

"Uh, Ambrose."

"Ambrose, I'm Rhyno and this here is Heath."

The redheaded man threw his hands up in horror, like his criminal identity was some sort of top secret thing. But also then probably _was_ since he liked to rob bank vaults. Reaching out a hand he used it to slap at the big man which came off like a tiny fly buzzing round his head, since it was debatable whether or not Rhyno even noticed.

"Now what in the world would you go an' tell 'em that for?"

"I was being polite."

"But now they know who we are. They know the identities _behind_ the reputation."

Seth barked loudly,

"What reputation is that man?"

"Oh come on now," Heath barked back, "I mean, we're beauty and the man beast."

He had clearly been hoping for a reaction of some sort, like perhaps he had told them they were Bonnie and Clyde instead of criminal tag team they had never even heard of.

Dean shrugged back loosely,

"Sorry man we got nothin', hey, but I mean the _pun_ is pretty good though."

His little brother was more implicit,

"Okay, now tell us _how_ man?"

"How we became super notorious villains?"

"How you got in here in the first place you idiot and who left you the keys."

Dean smirked in response to it.

Because it was patently obvious that the pair of criminal morons _had_ to have had _some_ help at _some_ point along the line, since neither of them seemed like hardened vault blowing villains and especially not the powerhouse who would frankly have struggled to squeeze himself in through a heating vent or honestly even a normal door.

Heath sat himself up a little straighter in outrage.

Hold up, he was _offended_?

"Now what makes you boys think that we even _needed_ an accomplice?"

Rhyno however merely shrugged his broad shoulders in the chirpy sort of manner he seemed to have made his own and which in spite of himself made Dean kind of smile mildly because bizarrely he found he _liked_ the man.

 _And_ his loose tongue.

"Heath told one of the nice cashier ladies he needed the money for an operation for his kid and then cried and everything. I mean my partner can be real convincing, so she totally fell for it hook line and sinker, you know?"

"Damn it man, _trade secrets_."

Heath once more threw his hands up, which in any other circumstance would have made him the brains, except that it seemed like neither of the two men slumped across from them really counted as the wits of what operation they had, since the morons had broken in and _left the front door wide_ before then getting trapped in there.

Honestly _both_ of them sucked.

Dean snorted,

"Dupin' women huh? M' gonna say it here man, but that kinda shit is pretty rotten y' know? Because what if _she_ has a bunch of little _kids_ or somethin' an' now we gotta go an' bring her in for freakin' helpin' you? I mean that is like, fuckin' _lower_ than low."

Rhyno cleared his throat and then shuffled his butt awkwardly.

He clearly felt bad.

But then freaking _one_ of them should, since Heath remained unmoved. At least _bodily_ anyway, because physically he pouted like a bearded teenage girl which then triggered an image of him wearing a knee-length pleated with long white socks pulled up to his hairy knees and with his big feet shoved into a little pair of black patents that made Dean want to retch.

"Hey now, I got kids too."

"Fuckin' way to make 'em super proud of their old man dude."

"Besides who ever said that _you_ boys were getting outta first? Because sooner or later folk will notice we're gone too and _then_ our underworld friends will come and bust us back outta here and what do you think will happen to a couple of cops then?"

In response Seth barked wryly,

"Did you say _underworld friends_ man?"

Dean frowned back,

"Nice try, but someone will notice us gone first. I mean his mom is makin' bourbon freakin' eggnog an' gingerbread, so _trust me_ dude, when the cavalry turn up all freakin' guns blazin' it'll be with flashin' blue lights an' badges an' cuffs. An' _then_ we'll see who has the best friends in the business man an' no way is it _you_ two."

So there.

He only hoped that it was true.

 **Christmas Day: 1.00am**

Dean felt the elbow nudge into his ribcage and then blinked in bewilderment at the silent telling off, because at no one point had he been aware that was scratching or twitching, or banging out a rhythm or hitting his head and so therefore he was clueless as to what the bump into the lungs was for. Because it had to be for _something_.

He put his hands up,

"Dude whatever it is I swear it's _not_ me."

"Merry Christmas moron."

Dean blinked back,

"Like, seriously?"

In response to him the younger man rolled his wristwatch over, in spite of the copper blonde having a working one of his own, but which he looked at regardless because he was feeling kind of sluggish and so therefore lifting his hand up was one move way too far. Briefly Dean wondered if the growing exhaustion was the lateness of the hour or possibly the lowering levels of air, or maybe even a mixture of both knowing his luck.

He blinked at the readout.

December Twenty Fifth.

His _wow_ came out as a raspy little chuckle, caught part way between amusement and bafflement he guessed, because the whole thing was so screwy it was hard to believe it. Rubbing his hands across his face to wipe the sleep off he snorted at his brother,

"Not exactly gingerbread an' eggnog huh?"

"Not exactly man."

"But like, not the _worst_ holiday I ever had in the scheme of things,"

Dean offered the words up with a haphazard shrug, which his younger brother had come to know meant he was trying to seem easy when inside there were more complex emotions going on and the subject of which seemed obvious on the face of it.

But then possibly not.

Dean chuckled roughly back,

"Because I mean, there was this _one_ time when the guy my mom was rentin' our spare room to stole all our presents out from under the tree an' sold 'em to buy some weed. Not like there were _many_ of 'em or anythin' but it still kinda sucks when you're eight, y' know dude?"

"I'll bet," Seth winced back, "But I'm going to have to say man that being trapped in a bank vault still totally beats that."

Dean considered it briefly,

"I dunno, maybe."

Leaning back Seth rested his head on the lockers and then let his eyes fall on the two men opposite, the smaller of whom was tapping out a rock beat courtesy of the headphones he had evidently brought and a faint sounding tune in the background on his cell phone. Because evidently the essentials kit of the modern bank robber included jamming rock playlists but no escape plan.

He blew a breath out,

"My worst Christmas was my first one inside for sure, because _man_ that was rough."

Nor was he kidding on that, since it had happened within his opening stint of being locked up and before he had learned the ins and outs of prison life, or worked out who he could trust in the big house and when and where and _how_ to stay low. The loss of his family had made it even _more_ bitter, both in terms of his loving parents _and_ the non-blood brothers he had let down.

Dean scratched his collarbone restlessly,

"I feel you man, I was the same."

"Missing me you mean?"

"No missing – ,"

Dean paused and a knowing silence swept between them, since the missing word in the line was obviously _her._ Because sure, Seth had only been teasing his brother, but Dean had taken the sentence to heart, or else had possibly wanted to say the thing anyway, like mentioning her would somehow magically bring her back to life.

He ruffled the copper bangs supportively,

"I know man."

"Kinda not sure how I even got through it, y' know?"

"Because you're a fighter," Seth responded, making his hair ruffles deeper, like he could physically bleed the words through his fingertips, "And besides you still wanted to kick my ass, remember?"

Luckily the sentence brought a quirky little snort, which tweaked the thin lips up into a grin. But it might as well have been a clap-kneed belly laugh the thing was so god damn freaking heart warming to see, even if there was no attempt to deny it since they both knew that for a long time it the _kicking ass_ part had been true.

Not anymore though.

Dean lifted his shaggy head up and for a second Seth assumed there would be another heart to heart, but instead the blue eyes narrowed in across the bank vault and towards the two men huddled lacklusterly side by side. He raised his voice towards so that it carried through the headphones in a gravelly sort of wariness that made his brother blink, since it seemed to come so completely out of nowhere,

"Please tell me you're not seriously _listenin_ ' to that?"

Heath looked up then unplugged an earbud,

"Not a Motley Crue fan?"

"Not _that_ album man, the whole thing was kinda _heavy_ an' freakin' _not them_."

"Well then in that case you're stupid."

Dean launched to his feet, or at least probably _would_ have had the technical man not grabbed him and stopped him from doing whatever crazy thing he was thinking of.

"Whoa man."

Thankfully Dean then made his intentions much clearer.

"Lemme go Seth, I need to bust my gun loose."

" _How_ exactly man?"

"Bite it open with my teeth, or freakin' _punch_ it out or some crap or somethin'."

"Dean, _hey,_ be cool here."

"Thinkin' John Corabi is better than Vince Neil."

He offered the last part up in a petulant little mumble as he sank back towards the lockers being pulled by his friend, but clenching and unclenching his fists up the whole time. Because insults to his character or personal appearance he could handle, but no _way_ would he let his musical choices be undermined, because some things were sacred and needed to be stood up for and the principles of rock were totally one.

Heath glared back smugly,

"I seen them in concert four times now."

"I've seen 'em five."

Beside him he heard Seth groan, because both of them knew that Dean had seen the band _once_ when he had hustled himself a ticket as the fourteen year old child, but which the criminal before them was not to know exactly and so to that end the copper blonde lawman pressed on ahead and then basically lied like he was going for gold in it.

"One time when I was a beat cop we provided 'em security."

"Perfect Dean, perfect."

He ignored the sarcastic snort,

"An' they were so impressed with my looks an' my skills an' shit that they actually told me that I should probably be _in_ the band. Except I turned 'em down because of the whole _protect an' serve_ crap, an' because unlike _you_ I put the city first."

Heath snorted,

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Dean spread his hands,

"Hey man, I mean I _would_ call Nikki Sixx but what with the walls bein' so thick in this place an' everythin', that makes it kinda impossible. But he would totally back me up. Because _he_ was the one that wanted me on guitar duty an' backup vocals, right man?"

He nudged his brother in the ribs and in response Seth shook his head,

"Oh no, leave me out of this."

Heath narrowed his eyes in a disbelieving half squint that implied no way in did he buy into the thing, but at the same time he also seemed to kind of go for it a little, which solidified the fact that he was not a smart man, or else that Dean lied like a freaking Olympic champion.

"Hold up man, you play guitar?"

"No, but I _air guitar_ like real _real well_ , so the skills are transferable."

Seth blew out a breath and then banged his own head into the lockers behind him with a beneath the breath mumble that sounded like _damn it man,_ because slowly he was changing his mind on his stance earlier when he had said being locked up was the worst Christmas he ever had.

It looked like there was a brand new champion.

He checked his watch a second time.

"Hurry up mom."

 **Christmas Day: 4.00am**

Dean had been sleeping in short bursts that had washed over him but had woken several times in a panicky lurch, with weird dreams like he was trapped somewhere or on stage playing solos, which had blended and tangled and turned into one and then thrown him right back into the horrible waking nightmare of being locked in the bank vault on Christmas Day.

It freaking sucked.

Nor was the third and final time any better as he blinked back the happy vision of a cheering Motley Crue encore and found himself staring at his own legs stretched out in front of him before becoming aware of a pressure on his arm.

Huh?

It was cutting the blood supply and turning his fingers tingly which confused him for a second.

But it was okay.

It was only Seth, who at some point had himself fallen headfirst into the land of slumber but in a slump towards his brother that had been missed by them both. Or at least until the pins and needles had set in, since he presumed that was the reason his brain had woken him back up, before his fingers became gangrenous and fell off or something and which was totally possible.

Except maybe not, since there was something else his head was trying to tell him.

He blinked his blue eyes and then mumbled,

"What the fuck?"

Beyond him Heath was stood at the table that had been set up in the middle of the hemmed in little room and was busily trying to wrench something open which he had held between his elbow and his scrawny little ribs. Something that looked a whole lot like the grey deposit box they had placed their guns in earlier.

Hold up that was bad.

End of the world level bad.

"What the _fuck_?"

Dean repeated it a second time but far louder as he launched himself clumsily onto his feet, since the expletive basically summed up his feelings not to mention his bewilderment as he stumbled in across the space and then reined his fist back. The hefty punch was not his _best_ , but on plus side it _did_ sent the redheaded tumbling backwards.

Dean almost patted his knuckles.

"Good boys."

Heath clamped a hand to his bruised face in outrage as he clattered back into the wall of locker fronts, which was a pretty ballsy look considering _he_ was the backstabber who had been trying to pry himself loose a freaking firearm.

"What was that for?"

"Oh come on, you have _got_ to be _kiddin_ ' me."

"Dean? Hey?"

Behind him his brother blinked back into life again and in response the copper blonde turned his head like a bratty child, who had caught someone trying to steal from the cookie batch and was trying to appeal to the nearest adult.

"He was goin' for a gun."

"He _what_?"

But the rest of the explanation was cut short in an instant as a force hit him bodily and with a bellow from the side, as the redhead charged back in like some pathetic type of steam train, because honestly the man was no muscle and all talk. But the surprise of the hit and the way he was standing meant the punt threw Dean pretty much wholesale off his feet and so together they slammed back into the table which they not only knocked over, but _fell_ over too.

Dean landed hard on his kidneys.

Uh huh. That fixed it. Worst Christmas _ever_ which was saying a lot.

Heath landed beside him like some variant form of turtle since for a second or two he lay wildly flailing his hands before rolling himself back over onto his stomach with an expression that looked more winded than fierce. But it then stopped in a way that suddenly seemed to change everything.

Dean followed the gaze all the way to the guns.

Oh crap.

Because somehow in the course of their super manly brawling, or whatever the hell was next step down from that was, the little box they had placed all the weapons in earlier had been cleaved clean open by the heavy table knock and the sheering of which meant that the firearms had spilled out like a brutal piñata at a really fucked up birthday bash.

Everybody noticed at the same time and then blinked at them.

Nobody moved.

Well, for three seconds perhaps, because then they _all_ surged forward in a haphazard scramble, which began with him tripping the eager redheaded loser up as the feet stumbled past him.

Heath hit the floor like a felled tree but then kicked back which caught Dean square on the head and sent stars into his vision because holy _hell_ that hurt. But he kept his finger tangled tight on the pant hems regardless, since no _way_ was he letting the man upgrade to a firearm and not in a locked room since there was only one way _that_ shit would go.

Beyond him he watched as Seth blitzed towards the weapons, moving a hell of a lot quicker than the rest of them had. More than likely because of his whole _body is temple_ thing, which Dean made a mental note to never tease him about again.

Heath shouted helplessly,

"Rhyno."

Dean blinked.

Fuck.

He had forgotten the freaking big man who then motored in like some sort of bulky wrecking ball at Seth, who was in the middle of a pretty cool baseball slide towards the weapons that would have looked great in a movie or some shit, but which filled Dean with horror because no way would he make it in enough time to lift one up aim and then fire.

"Hey over here man,"

At Dean's shout his brother reacted in an instant, reaching the horde of weapons and then flicking one up, in the same split second that Rhyno stopped the slide with a brand _new_ tackle that propelled the tech man backwards and threw him into the wall.

" _Seth_."

Dean put a hand out as the gun flew towards him and then felt his heart seize up as Heath tried to grab it first. But fortunately he missed it and instead it sailed on past him and into the happy palm of the beaming copper blonde, like he had some sort of magnetic pull to it or something.

Finally, _finally_ shit was working out for them.

He pointed it at the redhead,

"Hold it right there man."

Heath had been in the process of hopping one legged towards the three remaining guns, but froze looking wide eyed as the barrel turned his way, even if Dean _was_ having to hold it backwards over his head since he was still sprawled on the ground, with his kidneys protesting fiercely in combination with his temple and his hip bone and his spine.

Not that it mattered so much. Because _he_ had the upper hand. He was the one holding the gun, right?

"Heath get down."

"Huh?"

Rhyno suddenly launched at him two handed with a snatch that seized both the cop and the handgun up as one and which positively wrenched Dean back up onto his feet again as the two of them tumbled backwards and crashed into the lockers hard.

Dean squeezed the trigger as Rhyno pushed his fingers.

 _Bang-bang-bang-bang_.

Four rounds rattled loose and then proceeded to bounce and ricochet off the bank vault as both Heath and Seth cursed loudly and then huddled towards the floor in a hail of sparks and loud bursts of metal that exploded all around them before finally petering out. Dean still had the gun held high way above his cranium, where the bigger man had forced his elbows up high but had no hands left to fight off the punches that the meaty free hand was busily swinging his way.

Beyond him Heath was crawling on his belly towards the weapons cache.

Dean shouted through gritted teeth,

"Redhead at six o'clock."

In response his brother hauled himself shakily back upright and scrambled towards the guns as Heath suddenly snatched one up, but thankfully in enough time to grab his own weapon so that the both of them were back in the same standoff as before.

Fuck things were going so very fucking badly.

Knuckles hit his stomach and he bent forwards with a gasp-wheeze as the little breath he had left was blown clean from his ribs, which left him coughing and brought the gun back into range again. Rhyno wrenched his hand round and nearly popped it from his forearm.

Dean clung on though.

Hard.

Because he _had_ to keep the thing.

Not that he was bound to last a whole hell of a lot longer one on one with a man who was more bulk than human being and the intensity of which was so complete and all consuming that he nearly missed the sudden interruption of someone new and the rush of fresh air that accompanied their arrival, since the blood was rushing way too loudly in his ears.

Long black hair piled headfirst into Rhyno in a hellacious headlong spear.

Hold up, a _spear_?

"U-uce?"

Dean blinked in surprise or possibly a daydream, but sure enough when he followed the tussling bodies, there was Roman buried shoulder deep in the criminal man and propelling him backwards straight into the lockers like a heat seeking missile of a rampaging bull, in a way that the criminal had clearly never faced before since his entire expression was one of pure shock. His head snapped back whiplash like into the brickwork and then he slumped towards the floor with the powerhouse stood above, like some sort of apocalyptic older brother.

More feet poured in all around them.

More feet?

Dean slowly registered a wash of police uniforms and a man in a suit with a shirt badly buttoned who was probably the bank manager who had been roused from his bed and therefore unsurprisingly was looking totally bewildered by the scene of total chaos.

"Babe, hey you okay? Look at me Dean."

Hands landed on his shoulders.

Brown eyes followed.

"Roman?"

Dean said the word in a baffled haze as beyond the broad form that in no way could have been there he watched a ring of policemen force the criminal redhead to hand over his gun, leaving Seth free to back up and rub a hand across his features in the same type of horde of emotions _he_ felt. Because how had the cavalry even turned up there in the first place and why was their brother leading it?

"Babe?"

Dean blinked back,

"Uh, yeah, m' okay but how – ,"

Roman turned and bellowed out loudly,

"Seth, you good brother?"

Papa Roman was taking stock, like some sort of super frantic farmyard border collie in a herd of newborn lambs, or like the effortless big brother that he was and which was then emphasised by the hand nestled within the copper tangle, like he was worried if he blinked Dean would merrily skip off and potentially fall over a cliff or something and which honestly was probably not too far from the truth.

Seth wandered over and Roman put out his free hand to grab his younger brother and pull him in close, before throwing his eyes up and muttering thankfully to the heavens in a low little mumble that neither one of his team could hear.

Dean tried a second time,

"Uh, uce? Not that m' not like, _happy_ to see you, but how are you here dude?"

Roman snorted back,

"Stephanie called me when I was stood in the airport waiting at the carousel to pick up my bags. Said Seth's mom had been in touch to say you two were missing and the rest of it kind of happened from there. I took the next flight back and Steph got someone from the tech department to track your last location before your cells stopped working."

Blue eyes blinked in bafflement,

"Hold up, so what you're saying is that you missed _Christmas_ for us?"

Roman tousled the scruffy hair with a chuckle like the copper blonde was crazy for even having asked, as beyond them a very concussed seeming Rhyno and a protesting redheaded Heath were hauled from the room, with the latter trying to grind his heels into the concrete as he shouted at the officers.

"Come on now, I got kids."

Roman shook his broad head,

"Nah, I'm not missing anything, I don't have the kids this year and besides it's still early."

"Wanna go get something to eat?"

Dean posed the question as his stomach began to rumble, but then paused as the cell in his back pocket began to buzz as the flood of fresh air brought back evident phone reception and let them know about the many myriad calls and texts they had missed and with Seth in particular having so many from his mother that his phone vibrated permanently.

"Damn, my mom is _freaking_ out."

"So go call her, but _then_ can we go an' get some damn eggnog?"

Roman snorted fondly at them,

"Merry Christmas boys."

* * *

 **And Merry Christmas to one and all and to all those who celebrate. Next week Roman and Seth get some news that turns their world upside down. The brother feels will be strong in that one, so prepare yourselves!**


	32. Lost And Found

**Okay, so someone asked me to do a oneshot where the boys** _ **don't**_ **co!e through for Dean for once and I tried super hard to make that happen, but just couldn't get the story to work.** _ **But**_ **this popped into my head at the same time and I guess could sort of be considered part of that theme (if you squint) so here it is. I hope you all like it and Happy New Year! Best wishes to you all.**

 **Skovko, Well, I figure Bo can't be the only hopeless criminal in Suplex and besides, who doesn't love Rhyno and Heath?! And yes, he does have kids to feed after all! Won't somebody please think of the children?!**

 **Minnie1015, Awe, thanks for always noticing my quirky little details. That means a lot! But honestly I'm with Dean on that one. When you hear someone singing a song you like, who can resist humming along (even in the middle of a bank robbery)?!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you! Happy New Year!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yeah, Heath and Rhyno were only minor league dangerous but major league bungling! You're totally right about it happening to Dean and Seth though. I mean, it kind of** _ **had**_ **to. The three of them wouldn't know what to do with a normal Christmas right?!**

 **Rebel8954, Heath, Rhyno and Bo would be one hell of an unholy alliance. But also hilarious. The baddest bad bad guys in town! If this were the seventies that would totally be a crazy failed spinoff series (looking at you Huggy Bear!)**

 **Not-that-kinda-gurl, Aww, glad it could help. My stories will always be full of brotherly Shield vibes and lots of Seth and Roman worrying about Dean! Feel free to stop by any time!**

 **Cheryl24, Oooh no. No leukemia stories in this AU. I've had more than enough of cancer this year. But I can see why you might think that from my teaser last week (my bad). But nope, I went in a whoooole other direction. Whoooole other. Lol!**

 **Mandy, As ever my lovely you are totally welcome and thank** _ **you**_ **for always reviewing and driving me on. I think we should both forget about 2018 and try to look ahead for hope for 2019. We can do it. Plus if you have the New Year's blues, I have more Seth coming up for you in this chapter. Hope you like!**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Well, wait no longer because you're about to find out what the news is. Strap yourself in for this one!**

 **Drop that glitter ball in 3, 2,1...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Lost And Found**

Seth was in the middle of potentially winning the world series when his cell phone began to buzz on the coffee table glass, so for a second he debated ignoring it completely before reluctantly scrabbling for it as he paused the game mid swing, instantly muting the background electronic crowd noise and throwing his apartment into silence.

"Gob damb."

He had a spoon in his mouth from where he had been sporadically eating yogurt in between scoring a brace of home runs, which made his voice come out sloppy and mumbled as he clumsily wedged his cell between his shoulder and his ear and then triggered the game with total impatience, because video game history waited for no man.

Or woman as it turned out.

"Rollins?"

Of _course_ it was Stephanie and on hearing her snipped tones he let out a groan, because whenever she called him hours of hard work always followed, which were as varied as sitting in their van for three months to chasing a prison escapee through a mile of mud flats and the smell of which he _was_ still trying to freaking wash out, because _god_ that stuff lingered.

He snapped back in long suffering,

"Oh come on boss, we only finished your last damn case less than three hours back. Do we not get a break?"

His star batter stepped up and then flexed his computer generated feet on the plate a little before hunkering low into his champion stance, which forced Seth to put both of his hands on the remote again out of fear that the season he had been working on for weeks now would be wasted in a heartbeat and leave his team second rate.

Stephanie meanwhile hiccupped emotionally.

 _Emotionally_?

"Rollins, I need to tell you something – ,"

"Hold onto that thought for a second can you boss?"

In front of him the opposition pitcher launched the ball in and he tensed in response with his fingers over the keys as he waited like a pike in the shadows of a millpond for the moment to make his well honed strike. He triggered it as the computerized ball passed by the scoreboard, with a swing that took the life from his waiting power bar and then happily sent the baseball into the stratosphere.

He launched up.

"Hell yeah. Now _that_ is what I'm talking about. World champion baby. None better."

"Rollins are you there?"

In the excitement of the victory his phone had slid out of position so that instead the stupid thing was being held up by his chin and which therefore made his boss' voice _resonate_ through him like perhaps she had somehow tapped a line into his skin. His lounge was being blasted by the sounds of bogus cheering which he had pumped up earlier to fully immerse within the game and which therefore made it harder to hear the commissioner. Not that he _wanted_ to.

"I kinda missed that, come again."

"I think Dean is dead."

Huh?

The oxygen billowed clean out of him, hard and instinctively like someone had thrown a punch into his gut, because the force of her words made him physically stagger to the point that he stumbled backwards and then crashed into the couch, which rose up to meet him as his legs stopped working and as his limbs and his whole body went suddenly numb.

He had to have misheard.

Right?

Because after all he had _literally_ seen his brother and his crazy mop top hair only three hours before, when the three of them had finished up the last of their paperwork then unfurled from their desks and wearily headed for their homes, since all of them had been so wiped from their mission that they had chosen to forego their usual _'nother case solved_ round of beers and with the copper blonde who had taken on the brunt of the undercover work the most exhausted of them all.

Dean was at home in bed asleep and Seth _knew_ that.

He muted the cheering clumsily.

"Now hold on a second here, what in the hell are you even _talking_ about here?"

His boss faltered.

He had _never_ heard her falter before and that fact on its own sent a bolt of horror through him that washed cold through his system and made him feel completely sick, or like he was possibly about to have a heart attack or something because he felt like he was slipping or losing his grip.

The commissioner sucked a breath in,

"I took a call from the hospital – ,"

"Which hospital?"

Because honestly that felt like a pretty big deal, since their local medical centre had been where the beloved _she_ had worked and so therefore the staff there knew her heartbroken fiancé well, since he had often met her for lunch and picked her up from her night shifts. So if their brother had been taken there in any form remotely then _someone_ would have known to contact one of them instead and not their no nonsense ballbusting commissioner.

"Memorial."

Not Suplex General.

He blew out a breath.

"Fifty minutes ago they brought in a man with a chest wound," Stephanie continued, not hearing the hitch, "He had been shot point blank twice in a botched robbery on a convenience store. They rushed him into surgery but he died under the knife, from blood loss, shock and massive trauma."

"God damn it get to the point."

Seth was clenching his teeth. So hard that he could physically hear them grinding but could have cared less if they had shattered in his mouth since his head was full of images of shootings and surgeons and most of all of Dean who there had been no mention of so far. Because while her story was heavy on specifics it was not so good on the hard freaking facts, which his policeman and brother brain needed like water or a shot of blood thinner.

"They found a wallet in his jeans, with his licence and credit cards."

"It was Dean?"

It seemed obvious but he still had to ask like maybe he had picked up the wrong thread, but which he knew from the break in her voice he hadn't and which his boss then confirmed in two lone heavy lone words that he knew he would remember forever and probably wake up screaming over.

 _No, no, no, please_ –

"It was."

Nothingness exploded in his brain like a thunderclap or like someone had wiped the base emotions from his brain and replaced them instead with a void of pure emptiness and _restlessness_ too because he needed to be on the move and solving and _fixing_ things and proving that it was nonsense, since no way could he believe that his brother was dead. Dean Ambrose had _not_ been shot on the sidewalk on his down time. _Not_ when he had beaten so many freaking things, from nearly having his kidneys cut out of him to being buried in a coffin to being hit in the head. Nothing so mundane as a bungled _robbery_ could hurt him.

In no realm of reality would that ever be a thing.

"Does Roman know?"

"He should be on his way over to collect you. I need you to meet me at the hospital."

He knew why. Because presumably they needed to identify the body and the woman in charge of the city police force probably counted as a pretty reliable source, but for which she needed the backup of her best men not to mention she probably knew that no way in hell would they have stayed away. Not when it came to something that involved their middle brother and the best damn friend either one of them had ever had.

Seth fought hard to swallow back a lump of nausea,

"How far out are you?"

"I'll be there in fifteen and I'll make sure they have the right person and let you two know."

"I mean, you _have_ called his place right?"

"No answer."

Of course she had, since the one thing their boss was _not_ was a moron or a person who was prone to letting her emotions run wild. But he was grasping at straws and trying to think of _anything_ that someone had possibly been panicked enough to overlook in the swirling mass of chaos and horror.

"No way is it him."

"Rollins, I'll meet you here okay?"

His boss hung up with what sounded like a whisper, as if her voice and her usual composure were about to break and in response to it the technical man simply sat on his couch seat blinking as the long tones tearfully echoed out through his phone, but which he barely even _heard_ because his heart was so noisy that a bomb could have fallen and he wouldn't have known. Because how could he focus?

He fumbled at his cell phone and then up pulled the well-known number before pressing it,

"Come on man, come on man, _pick up_."

He honestly would have _paid_ to hear Dean's voice barking back at him in his low growly timbre. He would probably have bitched up an absolute freaking _storm_ about having woken him up and the sanctity of slumber.

Seth held his breath.

But it went to voicemail instead.

"Hey dog, m' not here, or maybe m' ignorin' you, but y' know, whatever, leave a message anyway."

It finished off with some clumsy fumbling like he had no clue how to stop recording and probably _had_ since technology was so not his thing. In the background there was a soft and happy sounding chuckle which Seth knew in a heartbeat had to have been _her_ and which not only showed how often their undercover man used his cell phone but also pretty much wedged a stake between his bones. Because how could they _both_ be gone?

Except no.

No one knew that yet, because no one had confirmed the dead man was Dean and which was suddenly the only thing the technical man could think about as he launched from the cushions like he had sat on something sharp and then fumbled to turn off his big screen television as he swiped his keys up and then burst from the room.

He needed to see for himself with his own eyes.

He _needed_ to get there.

By the time he had stumbled into the hall and shunted his feet back into his thick boots the bubble of nausea that had been creeping up his gullet had pretty much reached the critical point, but it tapered as he then rapidly threw his door open and nearly stepped headfirst into a fist, which was curled ready to knock and then _beyond_ which were a pair of haunted brown eyes that filled him full of relief,

Roman was there.

"Oh thank god man, I thought I was gonna go crazy waiting for you to show up."

He expected a reply or else to be hustled out of there so they could break every traffic law known to modern man, but instead Roman paused for perhaps half a second and then simply stepped forward to pull him into a hug.

Seth protested mildly but still went with it, at which point he realized he had been shaking like a leaf and the comfort of which made him haul a sudden breath in but at the same time pull backwards because there was one man still not there and they needed to find out where he was and what had happened before they cried or hugged or went through anything else.

He cleared his throat way too hesitantly for his liking,

"Big man, we need to move."

Roman reluctantly pulled back, looking spent, or like a man who had been up for weeks without sleeping, or like someone who had seen their favorite pet being shot, since his big brown orbs were reddened and glassy like their trusted powerhouse had been bawling behind the wheel and possibly _had_ too since out of three of them, their hulk was way more likely to show his emotions than the rest.

Roman swiped his eyes with the hem of his sleeve cuffs and then nodded,

"Uh huh, yeah I know man, I know."

He looked broken which was by no means an expression that Seth was used to, since even back when he had been facing him over a courtroom the bigger man had looked murderous instead of upset and so therefore the more he thought the more he came to realize that he had _never_ seen Roman crying.

He hated it though.

He physically _hated_ it and so to that end he simply stepped out into the hall and then pulled the big head low and into his own arms so that the man who had always been their oldest brother and protector could break a little more because _god damn it_ he needed to and because _if_ the worst had happened then it seemed obvious that the two of them were going to have to rotate grief somehow.

Roman shuddered and hacked out a cough, but then seemed to pull himself back from the brink again before lifting up his head and sucking in a long breath, even though his eyes were all bloodshot.

"Come on then."

Fortunately thanks to the lateness of the hour, the city streets were pretty much totally clear, which meant that Roman could cut a path towards the hospital without breaking or else having to speed through too many red lights, because the emergency centre that their brother had been taken to was easily half an hour from where their homes were, which meant that Suplex General had to be swamped with cases to push others wide.

Had that hampered Dean's chance at life?

Roman slung them hard around a corner by a coffee shop and in response Seth felt his heart flip over in his chest, because they were literally a block from where their brother lived and so therefore the place where he had potentially been gunned down and which suddenly made the tech man bark out an order that kind of came from nowhere.

"Hang a left man."

"What?"

"Hang a left now before we miss it, come _on_ man."

Roman responded with a screech of the wheels and then a blast of angry horns as several other cars around them were then forced into sudden evasive danger moves as they suddenly changed lanes and which the big man held a hand towards the rear view mirror to compensate for, which seemed pointless since it was night time but which he clearly felt better for. The brown eyes swung towards the younger man in bafflement,

"Mind letting me in on what the hell is going on here?"

"He needs his badge."

"His _what_?"

Roman scrunched his face up and in response Seth then tried to make the bark sound more reasonable even though he knew in his own head it was not. Because the truth was that the closer and closer they got to the hospital, the less and less he wanted to be there, since if Dean _was_ the man that was lying on the table then their entire lives would change.

No freaking _way_ was he ready for that.

Not for a second time.

"He needs his police badge, he always has it man, so you know he would want it there."

"He would want us there too."

Roman responded both calmly and evenly. But he knew the truth because _of course_ he freaking knew and because he probably felt the exact same way about everything since the pair of them were riding the same horrible boat. At the same time though he knew that the longer they tried to stop it, or hold back the tide, the bigger and heavier it would be and which Seth knew too but which still felt too much for him.

He tried a brand new theme,

"What about his houseplants?"

"I'm pretty sure his houseplants will make it through the night uce."

"But what about _beyond_ that," Seth reasoned stubbornly, "When us two are _occupied_ and trying to find the sense in this? Because do you think either _one_ of us will remember those hideous plants he loves and you know he would be _pissed_ if our asses let them die, since they were _hers_ and so keeping them going is like keeping _her_ there."

Roman sighed.

Probably _not_ because of the plant thing, even though that part was technically true, because for a man who looked out for _himself_ only sporadically, Dean sure had fussed over his tiny collection of potted plants, which his fiancé had bought and nourished and kept healthy and their copper blonde had taken over like some horticultural cult since they both had been loved by her one way or another and so bizarrely it was like they shared some common sense of loss.

"Listen uce – ,"

"Roman, I _need_ a freaking moment here, because I'm not even _close_ to being ready for this, okay?"

Roman nodded back,

"Okay brother."

"Really?"

Because Seth would have put money on the big man saying no and insisting that they beat a path straight to the hospital and the possible calamity that lay beyond the doors. But instead Seth was rewarded by the sleek truck turning and beginning to wind a path that the two of them knew well, even though it suddenly felt bizarrely sort of _heavy_. Roman kept his gaze forwards but his big face looked resolute as the orange of the street lamps passed in steady flickers overhead and showed up the clenched teeth and the tightened lines of worry as he rumbled a sentence loose which was instantly soothing in spite of the pain,

"Hey, I'm here for _both_ of my brothers, so if this is what you need then it is what it is."

In response the smaller man cleared his throat huskily.

"Thanks man, I – I appreciate that."

Between them they then fell into a contemplative silence, or else a hugely _tense_ one as they each held their breath and waited for one of their cells to start ringing with news that their commissioner had seen the body for herself and then whatever the freaking hell she also would then say _beyond_ that and the thought of which turned their collective stomachs as one.

Nope.

Pulling up outside the smart looking building helped a little though, because it totally felt like a normal thing, like they were picking Dean up for a long surveillance shift or something, to throw him headfirst into an undercover sting.

Roman led them up to the floor and then pulled the keys loose, which hurt even _more_ because the things had been newly cut when their brother had determined that it was probably best they have some in case he lost his own set _and_ his hidden back up ones as well and both of which scenarios were totally possible.

Dean Ambrose was forgetful.

It was a lovable quirk.

Beyond him the locks clicked and Seth was through in a heartbeat, practically knocking his older brother from his path and stepping through into the familiar hallway with its coat stand full of leathers and the surge of _Dean_ smell, which was basically a combination of cologne and spearmint chewing gum and which he trampled through into the kitchen where he flipped the light on.

Lo and behold the pot plants were staring back at him in a little line on the windowsill with their blooming hands reaching out. But instead of watering them or tending to them like he had insisted, Seth stood and stared at them like he had been frozen in time and which was where Roman found him not five seconds later.

"Hey, you okay brother?"

His response was hummed back,

"Remember when he read that peeing on them gave them nutrients?"

Roman snorted,

"Ha, I mean how could I _forget_ considering that he kept it in the refrigerator beside the _Snapple._ "

Both men could still remember their copper blonde teammate slow-motion launching with a look of pure horror across the tabletop, to knock the container of special brew from their powerhouse as he had happily moved to chug it one day with his lunch and which had then thrown a torrent of piss over the floorboards, but on the plus side had spared them all from something more gross.

Even so though, Seth beamed at the memory,

"Then he made me order him that damn box of ladybugs which broke in the office."

He physically laughed at that, but then stopped as it tapered into something more broken and as the lump bloomed up in his throat one more time. Because what if those were the only tiny pieces they had left of him? Bizarre sounding stories that barely made any sense and would have been certifiable in any other person, but which were par for the course when it had come to their best friend.

He swallowed hard then dropped his head into his cupped palms and in a second he could feel a broad hand on his neck, which kneaded the muscle there over and over but which both of them knew would never bring him back and the horror of which was so totally consuming that it masked everything else.

Including the soft pad-pad of weary footsteps, but not the voice that ground out with them,

"The fuck are you guys doin' here?"

Both heads turned at once.

Dean was stood in the doorway with one eye closed and the other one a squint as he tried to battle the bright overhead lightbulbs and the shift out of the darkness from wherever he had been. He was wearing what had to be his regular bed clothes, since he was only in boxers and a badly crumpled tee. His hair was stuck up in a clumsy looking mohawk but only on one side like it had been pressed into the sheets, but which honestly made little difference to his open mouthed, brothers who blinked back at him for a moment in shock and total relief.

In cussing too as it turned out.

"Uce. Jesus Christ man."

Roman moved first and in a move like he had been fired from a cannon, with a hug that basically enveloped the Dean whole, so that all Seth could see was the top of the mohawk and the big tattooed forearm wrapped around it like a snake. But he _did_ hear the startled mumble that barked out from the shirt front, since Dean was obviously pretty confused.

Roman scrunched the hair in his fingers,

"Thank god babe, oh man."

"Roman, what the – ,"

"God damn your crazy ass. Getting the pair of us all worried like that babe."

In response Seth blew a breath out and sank backwards, bumping into the countertop hard as his body seemed to fold. Because Dean was there _with them_ and he was okay. Well, bewildered but he was alive and breathing at least and mumbling out cuss words and being _him_ and _not_ murdered. It even briefly made the tech man break his whole atheism thing to look up to the heavens and thank every deity he had heard of. Dean began to wheeze from where his breath was being cut off and so Roman let him loose and then scrubbed a hand over his eyes, which had once more turned red and watery from the emotion, but much _much_ more happily his time.

Dean popped back up with a cough and a lengthy in-breath,

"What the fuck is goin' on here?"

"Babe – ,"

"Why the hell are you bein' weird, an' what the fuck are you doin' in my kitchen in the middle of the night?"

He bounced his head from side to side, like he was trying to crack a couple of his neck bones back in place again and which at once was such an over top but customary motion that Seth too found himself suddenly moving in, for what he presumed in his own mind would be a hug much like Roman's, but which completely out of nowhere turned into a fist.

 _That_ part was new.

He watched out of the body as it swung towards his teammate, then butted up hard into the base of the chin, blasting the head backwards with a blink of bewilderment as Dean threw out his hands and then crashed into the sink, where he knocked over a stack of washed up plates with a clatter before then fumbled to cup the bruised site with his palm. Not to mention a look of bafflement mixed with pure fury.

"Fuckin' _ow_ dude."

Roman barked across the kitchen,

"Seth take it easy."

But he stopped short of a telling off, since there was probably a part of him that had been tempted to do the same thing and which meant that between they had covered the whole spectrum of relief. Even if that part was still mostly lost on their copper blonde man, who was instead blinking back at them with murderous levels of rage, which were probably understandable,

"What the hell _is_ this?"

"Damn it you moron, we thought somebody killed you."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" Dean frowned back, "Because let me tell you, this is totally _not_ cool."

Honestly Seth had been expecting a hit back, since the last time he had laid hands on his copper blonde brother in any other way than a gesture of love, it had been in the process of nearly splitting his head open and he had expected the punch to have brought those memories back. But instead Dean seemed more _hurt_ than confronted, which was a bizarrely timed but nonetheless _welcome_ reminder of how far their team had come and how much they had worked through. It also made the relief of his being there in front of them more powerful still.

Maybe he _should_ have hugged him after all?

He snapped instead.

"Memorial Hospital called Stephanie a half hour back and said they had a man with your freaking wallet who had been shot in a robbery _and_ that he died. We were heading over there to identify the body and god freaking _damn_ it we thought it would be you."

Dean blinked a few times and then a few times _more_ for good measure,

"Oh holy crap."

"What in the hell were you thinking man?"

Their undercover man spluttered,

"Hey hold up here, how the fuck is this freakin' _my_ fault, an' _anyway_ why are you two here if you were supposed to be headin' on over to the hospital?"

Blue eyes bounced between them and even though they were still cloudy — thanks to the fact he had been hauled from his slumber — his long-time lawman instincts were still firing hard. Even as he continued to knead at his chin bump and work his jaw up and down like he was checking for breaks, before then upping the drama factor by silently counting his bottom teeth too, as if maybe the punch had blown a couple of them loose.

"Seth had this thing about watering your plants uce."

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

Damn.

In response to the brand new little nibblet of information, the technical man could feel his cheeks beginning to burn red. Because hearing it in the open and seeing the confusion made it seem like pretty much the craziest thing in the world, which it probably _was_ in the overall scheme of things but it had felt right at the time. Seth turned back towards the window with a hand flap that he tried to make look casual but which failed pretty hard and besides which the window was where the stupid damn plants were, so _that_ was no help.

He scratched his head too which made his awkwardness more obvious.

Good job man.

"Looks, I mean, it's nothing. I just know how much these damn things mean to you and so I kinda thought we should probably check in on them or something and make sure that whatever happened they were going to be okay. Because the last thing I need is you haunting my ass man, which we both know is _totally_ something you would do and — ,"

Dear god he was rambling.

Dean however grinned right back at him and then threw his arms wide,

"Come on man, get in here."

Seth blinked,

"What? No. That is totally not the point here."

"Come on dude."

From behind him — or more like from _beside_ him since the kitchen was by no means proportionately large — Roman stepped in and pretty much propelled him forwards with the tip of one finger that was surprisingly tough and which sent the younger man stumbling over the floor tiles and into the arms of the idiot copper blonde, who pulled him close and then ruffled his damn _hair_ up, but which actually and irritatingly felt pretty good.

Not that the tech man would have ever _told_ him. Except for _maybe_ on pain of death perhaps.

Hacking out a way too loud bubble of emotion he untangled himself rapidly from the brotherly hug and then tried to straighten his shirt out a little, even though the thing was barely crumpled up at all. But at least it spared him having to look up at his teammates and show them his own uncharacteristically red eyes. Dean punched him loosely on the shoulder and he glanced anyway,

"But hit me again an' I'll knock you the fuck out."

Seth nodded back,

"Sounds fair to me man."

"Nice hook though."

"Thanks."

Roman snorted at the talk and then put out a hand to knead his brother one more time, like he needed to touch him and keep a firm hold in case it was all some terrible fantasy or he melted away or did something completely loony like throw himself out of a window perhaps. Because nothing seemed too crazy when it came to their undercover man. Meanwhile Seth frowned and then rubbed his brow a little because his head was freaking _pounding_ ,

"Wait a minute here. So now how come the guy at the hospital had your wallet?"

Dean scratched his neckline,

"Uh yeah, 'bout that. I _might_ have lost it a couple of days back."

"What?"

Dean shrugged,

"I kinda figured I dropped it or somethin' or someone took it from my pocket. But uh, yeah man it's gone."

Except not so much anymore since there was a dead man at the hospital with the wallet he had stolen in a box by his side, along with whatever other meagre belongings he had with him but which had likely once been owned by other people too. Seth rubbed his eyes suddenly feeling exhausted which he presumed was another effect of the relief, or possibly because of the punch or the panic or the whole _bundle_ of emotions they had recently been put through.

Dean hummed back at them,

"I mean, at least I know where it is now. So do you think they could maybe mail it back to me or what? Because it's not like you need to go over there now or anythin'."

Roman and Seth exchanged looks of sudden horror, because _holy crap_ neither one of them had told the boss who had probably long since turned up at the morgue and was waiting to take a look beneath the blue body sheet, but in the full expectation that her operative was beneath it.

Seth hissed the cuss out on behalf of them both, which blasted out loudly,

"Oh god damn it man, _Stephanie_."

Dean blinked,

"Could _she_ get my wallet?"

In response to him their tech man let out a groan and then shunted a hand into each of his pockets as he tried frantically to remember where he had put his stupid phone and which naturally, now that he needed to use it, had pretty much up and vanished into thin air. He blew a noise which then turned into a mumble.

"Missing my championship moment for this crap."

Dean frowned,

"Uh, did you say your _championship moment_?"

"Never mind."

He startled with a jolt as his phone began ringing, which triggered the vibrate function in a way that shivered through his bones, but which mostly centred pretty specifically on his right butt cheek and which then sent him scrambling with clumsy fingers for the thing before pulling it free the wrong freaking way up. Not that it mattered. A blind man could have seen who it was, or else could have sensed it through tremors in the earth or something, or from the smell of fire and brimstone, since _they_ usually could.

Roman peered across at him,

"Is that her?"

Seth pinched at his eyeballs.

"God damn it yes."

But before he could trigger the reply, the cell was swiped from his hand, which was followed by Dean putting one hand out to keep him held back as he answered the call himself with a stupid shit eating grin, that his brothers had feared they would never see again ever but which was _still_ irritating.

Dean hit the speaker and then chirruped brightly,

"Wassup girl?"

For a minute there was nothing which was hardly surprising but then there was a bark of genuine concern mixed in with a healthy sounding note of suspicion or probably confusion or fury or _both_ , since crying and hugging had never been her ballpark. Irrespective of _what_ was happening.

"Ambrose is that you?"

"In the flesh, or over the line or whatever, but still me either way."

"In that case you're fired."

"What?"

Dean rocked back in genuine bewilderment then blinked at the far wall of his kitchen in surprise as he tried to comprehend the latest twist. Although the reasons for the bark were expanded on rapidly since she sounded far shakier than they had heard her before and maybe even a teensy tiny bit _emotional_?

But mostly angry though.

Super angry.

"God damn it Dean. Where the hell were you? I mean do you even realize – do you have the slightest _notion_ of what you just put us through?"

"Uh, boss – ,"

"Why in the hell would you ignore your phone you dumbass?"

"I was _sleepin_ ' an' besides – ,"

"I had to come out here look at a body that I thought might be yours. Do you know how that feels?"

Dean tensed instantly and the whole room paused with him, including the woman on the other end of the line. Because if _anyone_ knew what it was like to see a loved one laid out on a table then it was totally him and the memory of that suddenly seemed to billow out of him kind of like their commissioner had thrown a _second_ damn punch. Roman kneaded in a little harder at the shoulder and then blew out a breath like it somehow might help, but the haunted expression still remained on the features and so Seth stepped in to take the phone back out of his hand.

What a night.

"Dean lost his wallet a couple of days back," he offered up evenly, breaking the pause and getting them back onto something resembling solid ground again, "So either the guy you saw did it or he found it."

"Probably the first," Steph cleared her throat,

"Still want us to come down there?"

"No, you stay and have _guy time_ and talk about woman or whatever it is you do."

Her tones were back to being clipped and no nonsense but it was obvious that her usual ballsiness had been shaken to the core and that in commanding them to stay with their brother she was passing an order for them to keep their eye on him, which was fuelled by the same impulse to keep him there safely which had made their powerhouse hold on and not let go.

Dean cleared his throat in the silence,

"Hey Stephanie?"

"Ambrose?"

"Thanks for goin' down there to check up on my ass. Or like, _not_ my ass but totally _coulda_ been my ass."

It was not exactly the most expressive of sentences ever, but in their world it might as well have been a sonnet or lovesong since they all knew that wrapped within the awkward little statement was the far more profound one that Dean had _wanted_ to say. Or in other words he knew what their boss had just been through and he was grateful that she had been prepared to put herself through it for him.

Steph sucked a breath in then blew it out heavily,

"I had to because I'm your employer."

"So I'm not fired then?"

Seth sometimes found it hard to figure out their relationship. Because while they each cared for their snippy boss in their own way, something had happened when their team had been broken which meant that she and Dean had formed something heavier still and which was shot through with sarcasm and the appearance of loathing but was underpinned by a lasting and familial type of love.

In response their commissioner snorted wryly,

Not a good sign.

"How about we discuss that tomorrow morning at eight, when I personally bring your next case load over to the warehouse?"

Dean gaped,

"Oh come _on_. We only finished the last one like, three fuckin' hours back."

"Good, so eight it is then."

"Listen up Stephanie, you freakin' Queen of the witches, if you show up – ,"

She cut him off, which left their undercover man goldfishing a little, before slumping back heavily and trying to hide the growing smirk. Because he loved when he and the boss were allowed to butt heads, which was something the pair of them could go at for hours. Like champions of stubbornness.

Roman tousled the birds' nest hair and then smiled warmly,

"I'm glad you're okay babe."

Dean blushed a little but then nodded back at him before turning to look up at the youngest of his team as the three of them stood silently in a rare moment of peacefulness and silently contemplated brotherhood and life.

It was broken with a short and rough little throat clear that seemed purposeful, like it was maybe foreshadowing something profound which Dean was super good at tossing out occasionally when folk least expected it and _especially_ from him.

His blue eyes twinkled,

"So, you came to water my plants huh?"

Seth waved a hand,

"I mean _maybe_ I guess. But why the hell is _that_ part important?"

Dean nodded to the window,

"Well then, what are you freakin' waitin' for? You think those babies are gonna water _them_ _selves_ up there?"

In response the tech man gaped back at him in outrage, which then god help him faded as he took in the beaming face and the tip of the tongue poking out between the teeth too, which Dean only ever pulled when he was proud of himself. It was a powerful thing though and it made life feel better and it _also_ underpinned two pretty solid home truths, the first of those being that Dean Ambrose was an asshole, but the _second_ of those being that they loved him for that and no mistake on that what-so-freaking-ever.

For the most part at least.

"Water your own god damn plants."

* * *

 **Group hug! Not too sure which one I'm going to post up next week. But it will either be something to do with Roman's daughter or possibly one set in the circus...cast your votes!**


	33. All The Fun Of The Fair

**Okay, so the majority of votes went to the Roman's daughter story which is what I've got for you here. Pure family feels this week. Hope you like it!**

 **Mandy, Whoop whoop. Look who's first on the list this week girl?! You got in there fast! I'm so glad you can use my work as a pick-me-up whenever you need it. Don't let the haters try to bring you down. The last story was definitely a Seth central. It was nice to delve into his feelings a little bit. This week I have protective daddy Deano as promised. Complete with brother feels!**

 **Cheryl24, I imagine that Stephanie gets his wallet back, buys herself some expensive champagne with it and then delivers it back to him in person as an excuse to get to see him with her own two eyes but also not seeming to needy about it. I mean, it is Steph after all!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Aww, thank you. Not so much heart wrenching drama in this one. But lots of feels.**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Yay! I'm glad you liked that last one so much. I have no idea where I got the premise from. It just hit me suddenly. Although I think I mostly wanted to write scruffy haired confused Deano! Your wish is my command. I have some of Roman's daughter coming up in this one!**

 **Rebel8954, Oh wow, I'm super pleased this is one of your new favorites. I have no kids, but I do have a dog and sometimes I can't see him when we're out walking. I usually end up bellowing in high pitched panic tones only to find he's behind me and has been the whole time waiting for me to throw his ball! My dog is Dean!**

 **Cherry619, No clowns this week, but I'll see what I can do for you next week instead. Hopefully you'll like Dean being all papa bear in this one too though! Agreed, I loved writing sleep deprived confused Dean in the last one. He's too precious!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Oh no, I'm so sorry to hear about your cat. As an animal lover and pet owner too, I can totally sympathise. You didn't bum me out with your problems at all. We all have them and sometimes just need to vent. I get it. Feel free whenever you want. Going with the Roman's daughter story in this one. Circus next week, so I hope that's okay?!**

 **Guest, Yeah, I really dangled that carrot of Dean being gone last chapter! But I would never hurt my boys that much, only for a moment (or the majority of a story) but I will always swoop in and save him/them at some point eventually *grabs hold of them and squishes them to show I care***

 **LHisawesome4ever, Absolutely! One Roman's daughter story coming up. With lots of panicking Dean, just…well, just because really! Enjoy!**

 **Skovko, We must always remember Mitch no matter how bad life is. Plus in this universe I like to think that plant Mitch has a plant girlfriend on Dean's kitchen windowsill. Maybe she would be called Michelle? Because of course Dean would have named them!**

 **Minnie1015, Sorry, looks like you got outvoted on this one. You get Roman's daughter instead this week (and a fun fair, which kind of counts right?!) Next week the circus can come to town! I know you love your angst! Last week's was a Minnie special! More Dean fretting in this one too, so you can get your fill!**

 **HannonsPen, Yep, Dean potentially being a goner ended up being as much of a surprise to you as it was to the boys (and Dean himself eventually!) But as ever, they all came out of it okay. Love him too much to really hurt him (beyond cuts and bruises and the occasional nightmare, obviously!)**

 **Get ready for kiddie cuteness…**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: All The Fun Of The Fair**

For reasons that Dean could _not_ work out for the life of him, the queue to the bouncy house was the longest by a mile and for reasons that he _could_ figure was rammed to near bursting with screaming kids and bored parents watching those having their turn and probably wondering how the bulk of their day out was being spent stood in front of a garish castle shaped balloon.

Dean knew their pain.

"How much longer until our turn?" the little girl beside him blinked up with big brown eyes and the reverence of a child who still had real heroes beyond celebrities and people on reality tv shows and among whom were her pop and his two policeman brothers. But especially _especially_ the energetic copper blonde.

Dean waggled their clasped together hands and winked at her,

"Next three people kiddo, or I'll riot."

"Okay."

In her other hand she was clutching a gigantic pink teddy bear that was basically the same freaking size _as she_ was, which he had won her an hour earlier to the chagrin of the stallholder who had obviously not been used to long time serving policemen turning up and hitting every last tin can target he on offer.

It was a hideous toy really. Like something born of a nightmare, with big eyes sewn too far round on either side of its head and with claws in place of sweet little teddy paws not to mention seventies loveseat type psychedelic long fur.

It even looked like it was freaking _frowning_ at him.

Damn creepy thing.

Roman would need to keep one eye open when he slept since no way would his ex-wife want the hideous thing at _her_ place, which meant that he would therefore have to keep it at _his_ as a special toy for whenever his kids were in staying over. Provided the thing didn't murder him first.

Dean reached a hand out and turned it back around again,

"How 'bout you point him over that way a little, so he can keep tabs on the line for us?"

"Okay Uncle Dean, because I bet my teddy has _real_ good eyesight."

It could probably stare into people's freaking souls. Not that the little girl picked up on his hatred _or_ the fact that her best beloved uncle wanted to take his service weapon and pump her brand new buddy full of lead in order to shake loose the demonic possession.

Beyond them the line moved in closer to the bounce house and she closed the space keenly in an energetic leap, using his hand and broad muscles for propulsion as she kangarooed the grass to their new position and beamed.

"Now there's only _two_ people left until our turn."

Dean smiled back.

She really was too fucking cute and _so_ like Roman in a whole freaking _host_ of ways. Not that he would have ever called his bigger brother cute. Or at least not in the same _as a button_ sense that she was, since frankly that would have been super weird.

Nope.

But what he _meant_ was that she was one of those laid back kids, who took most things that happened almost completely in her stride and with a composure that belied her mere eight short years of living but which he loved her all the more for because she helped to keep _him_ calm. Like a tiny little mama bear or a maiden aunt or something and which in some ways and at some times reminded him of _his_ girl.

While the rest of her peer group were smeared with snot or chocolate or throwing stones at each other and being little brats his godchild – not technically but that was how he saw her – was playing nurse with her dolls or helping out her mom and pop, as they struggled to handle her two rambunctious brothers and –

Dean looked up suddenly..

He wondered where they were.

Momentarily he cocked his head like he might hear them screaming or setting fire to something or basically spreading terror throughout the fair. But the lack of warning claxons and stampede of hysterical people implied that for once maybe the tearaway twins were playing nice and making things trouble-free for their father and uncle who had bravely taken them off to the petting section for kids, leaving Dean on babysitting watch with their sister.

They took another step forwards.

"Only _one_ person now."

"Are ya gonna bounce good an' high for your Uncle Dean when you get in there?"

"Super _super_ high."

He watched her nod her little head so that the slightly clumsy pigtails Roman had braided in earlier knocked into her shoulders as they swung back and forth and then stuck in the fur of the terrifying teddy in what he took to be the first signs of its taste for human flesh. In front of them the bored looking man on line duty lifted the barrier to let the next few children in and to his horror Dean found the bright pink man eating monster being shoved towards him hurriedly as the little girl raced on in, hopping on one leg as she shunned her suede booties and gambled towards the bounce house.

"My turn _yay_ but you have to promise you'll watch uncle Deano."

"You betcha ladybug."

But in spite of the words his eyes stayed on the bear for a first couple of seconds, watching the evil face for any traces of life, because no way could a vicious killer keep still for _that_ long without giving the game away at some point along the line or pulling out a knife from some internal pocket stitched in beneath the pink shag. Or some nunchucks perhaps?

"Dean. Hey. No fair. You're not watching. You _promised_."

"M' totally watchin' kiddo."

He turned the bear on its head and then promptly wedged the thing in beneath his armpit hoping that he could suffocate it as he painted on a smile which he then turned towards the little girl beaming before him as she leapt into the sky over and over again, trying to get higher and higher like she had told him, because much like her father, her oath was her sword.

Behind him somebody coughed impolitely and in response to it the policeman shuffled back out of the line and instead went to stand behind the thin piece of ribbon that functioned as the buffer for those whose kids were in the house and which comprised men and woman holding fast melting ice pops and trying hard to pretend that they were _not_ bored to tears.

His cell phone rang and he cursed it on instinct.

"Freakin' stupid piece of crap."

"Uncle Dean – ,"

"Lookin' great squirt. Now how about we see if you can go any higher."

He wrestled the teddy bear in between his kneecaps so that the badly stitched face was pressed into his crotch and then plucked his buzzing cell phone loose from his pocket before squinting at the blinking number and then loosening a grin off as he pressed the green button,

"Hey, havin' fun man or is this a mayday call?"

Nasalled tones snorted back,

"Be as smart as you like man, but those little hellions are actually being pretty good today."

"I knew it," Dean groaned, "I shoulda given you a safe word because no _way_ are those _Child of the Corn_ babies not tryin' to kill a piglet or sacrifice a lamb, so listen, if they got you tied up somewhere helpless make a noise like a walrus, no, make a noise like a _platypus_ an' I'll come bust you loose dude."

He was rewarded with a sigh,

"I have literally no idea what a platypus sounds like."

"Me either," Dean shrugged, "But come on, make somethin' up, because I mean I think they kinda _hiss_ or somethin'."

Beyond him on the bounce house the button cute mess of pigtails was waving at him merrily as she launched up and down and he clamped the cell between his cheek and his shoulder blade to free up a hand to salute the kid back. Besides which she had earned it since the rest of her cohorts were hopelessly rolling like turtles on their backs and not really putting special effort into the bouncing.

 _His_ kid however was practically on fire.

From the corner of his eye he watched a new kid join the party in the form of a chunky boy shaped like a human wrecking ball and wearing a red shirt that turned out to be a warning but which Dean barely noticed as Seth continued to ramble on, over the background sound of screaming toddlers and babies that were probably trying to poke the petting animals in the head.

"Roman says we'll meet you there in an hour."

"Huh? Meet us where?"

"Do you ever listen man?"

Dean grinned then opened his mouth to continue, because sometimes his youngest brother made it too tempting to be an ass, but he only managed a solitary half sentence before being roundly cut off as the technical expert caught on, since evidently _he_ was not the _only_ predictable one.

"Now you come to mention it – ,"

"Dean meet us here in an hour and stop being a wiseass."

"Geez _okay_ dude. Glad to see you're gettin' into the spirit for the kiddies though."

He was still beaming broadly as his brother hung up on him, accompanied by a sudden scream of kids on his end, which made it possible that the twins were trying to kill a small llama or perhaps another children or a shitshow of both.

Either way Dean was pleased to have dodged the toddler bullet by courtesy of being the favorite uncle and _then_ some, which meant that instead of being covered in straw and sheep crap, _he_ was stood beside the bouncy house feeling pretty smug since what in the world could possibly go wrong _there_?

It turned out he spoke too easily which was just fucking typical.

Because literally in the same second that he pocketed his cell phone and then turned to call the kid to tell her time to go since they still had one hundred and _one_ things to hit up, the boy in the red shirt suddenly took to the skies in what was basically a totally unwitting sort of frogsplash as his meaty bulk ricocheted way too hard off one of the walls and which then sent him like some sort of eight year old wrecking ball into the messy little pigtails who was standing near the edge.

Dean felt his heart flip into his stomach.

"Squirt look out."

But he made the call too late and so was forced to watch as her socked feet slipped from the apron but the bounce of which threw her up over the lip _and_ the barriers _and_ the various buffers in a horrible slow motion tumble onto her front, with her forehead smacking hard into the parched mud in a way that made everybody gathered there wince.

Dean moved at once,

"Oh shit, oh fuck, oh man. Squirt are you okay?"

"U-uncle Dean?"

Her voice sounded quavery not to mention pretty banged up and more than just a little bit shocked, which was probably why the kid was still sprawled on her stomach when her panicking lawman guardian breathlessly pounded up. Because what if she had cracked her _skull_ open or something, or else was internally bleeding or something far worse?

Dean was honestly scared to even touch her, but luckily however instead of passing clean out the little girl pushed herself up onto her knees shakily, with one hand pressed to a spot on her eyebrow and her pink lips wobbling as her eyes filled with tears.

His heart literally broke.

"Whoa, hey, come on now. Lemme take a look here."

Fuck but the kid was being really fucking brave as he peeled back her fingers to examine the head knock which he half expected to be a massive purple bruise. But it turned out to be freaking _more_ than that even, because blinking back at him was a genuine cut. Not too long or too wide or blooded, but a laceration regardless that he could see _into_.

Fuck.

He clamped her hand back and she whimpered,

"I want papa."

In response he nearly threw in that _he_ wanted Roman too, since playground scrapes and bumps were completely beyond his pay grade and he had no freaking clue what he was meant to do next. Dean watched as a tear trickled out of a brown eye and then began to bumble its way over her cheek, before leaning forward to mop it back up again as he swept her hair fondly,

"Hey c' mon now squirt, I need my big brave girl here ya get me?"

"But – but it really _really_ hurts."

"I know squirt I know."

It turned out that her tumble had pulled a whole crowd in who were standing around watching. Including the kid in the bright red shirt who had caused the unwanted propulsion in the first place and who Dean pointed at in outrage as the little brat _sneered_ like he had no clue what was wrong.

Dean barked at him,

"Oh come on, who even let this kid on here? Like, what is he? Two hundred and fifty pounds? We got little ones on this thing who weigh freakin' _nothin'._ I mean it woulda been safer lettin' 'em take part in a _bull_ run than have 'em go up there on that freakin' thing with _him_."

He felt small hands tug his sleeve,

"Uncle Deano?"

"Hey, you okay squirt?"

"Miss Brooke at school says it's not nice to shout at people. We have to stand in the corner for five minutes if we do and then say sorry."

Dean watched her bite her lip down, with her one hand still pressed to her head and the site of the trauma he had completely forgotten about. So maybe she was right on the whole shouting thing. Brushing her tiny fingers off he lifted up his shirt front and then used the material as a makeshift tourniquet, while behind him the probable mother of the small human wrecking ball moved in surreptitiously to hustle him off. Clearly in fear of a lawsuit or something and which was _super_ neighborly of her.

"Oh _real_ freakin' nice."

"Uncle Dean?"

"Kiddo you are gonna be _fine_ you hear me? Because I say so an' that means it _has_ to be true. An' as for shoutin' then your teacher is right kid. Shoutin' at folks is bad an' can really piss 'em off. But _sometimes_ it's the only thing you freakin' _can_ do, since punchin' 'em is illegal. Don't tell your dad that part. But for now we need to get you over to the doctor so they can look at that bump, 'kay?"

Her brown pigtails swung,

"Do you have pink teddy?"

Damn.

Dean looked back to the spot where he'd been stood and which was where he had let the creepy bear hit the ground in his mad headlong scramble to get to the youngster and where he honestly hoped to see the thing gone. Except of course not, because the toy was so horror movie creepy that it was still laid in the grass with the same frightening glare, which he was levelling towards the policeman in anger and probably made _him_ first on the freaking murder list.

Dean sighed,

"C' mon squirt, we'll grab him on the way."

Helping her clamber back up onto feet again he stooped to collect her neatly placed little shoes while keeping his shirt hem pressed tight to the head wound as he led her through the crowd. He stopped to get the bear and then balanced him in a way that made the right eye peer up at him _way_ too close for comfort. He was a dead man for sure.

Between them they skirted the bounce house line rapidly and then turned back out into the swarming mass of people skipping and screaming and having fun at the fair. Like _they_ had been before the kid had been sideswiped by the one boy wrecking crew.

Roman would probably lose his mind.

 _Especially_ since he only had a two week window in the long stretch of summer vacation where he got to have his kids and so therefore his plan had been to make the whole thing special and which had probably _not_ included his firstborn child and only daughter being catapulted several feet clean onto her head. Luckily however the medical tent was close to them and so he steered her in bellowing,

"Hey, we need some help. Got a kid with a cut brow here – ,"

"Ouch, it feels stingy."

"Do you hear that people? Stingy. So how 'bout we show a little freakin' hustle, huh?"

In response three sets of baffled looking eyes blinked on back at him, from the few plain benches placed haphazardly on the grass, one of which had an old man with a wadded tissue up his nostril and another housing what was obviously a bored looking but lost child, who was kicking at the grass loosely while he waited for his parents who were probably losing their god damn minds.

Beyond them a figure snapped a pair of blue gloves on,

"Bring her over here and I'll have a look at it."

Small hands tightened beneath his,

"U–uncle Dean – ,"

He could see her brown eyes were shimmering in terror and pain and probably a hint of concussion too and so wrestling the stupid pink bear beneath his elbow he shook her fingers loosely in a chirpy little swing and then beamed in towards her as confidently as he was able as he steered her towards the medic who had barked at them.

"Hey, d' ya think I would let anythin' bad happen to my squirt here?"

Besides the earlier catapulting.

For a second the kid paused but then she shook her head,

"No, but I'm not sure about _her_ though."

Evidently she meant the medic and biting a smile back the copper blonde looked up and towards the woman by the bed. In terms of her physique the woman looked muscular with shoulders and biceps that would have rivalled some _men_ and with a square jaw too but long blonde hair pinched backwards which made her look feminine. If not slightly scary too. It was hardly a surprise that the poor kid was frightened.

"I got eyes on her squirt, trust me."

He led her over to the bed and then picked her up and sat her on a corner whereupon the muscular blonde brushed his bloodstained shirt off and forced him to back up away from the kid a little, even though the tiny fingers remained wrapped clamped to his hand.

"How did this happen?"

"Kid fell off the bounce house, or well, like, was kinda _propelled_."

Dean made a motion with his hand in explanation but the doctor barely looked as she leaned towards to the cut and then pushed the edges of the wound closer together like she was trying to match pieces of some human puzzle up. In response the kid hiccupped in either pain or simple panic and so instantly Dean grabbed the heinous pink bear and then began to waggle the thing in front of her like it was performing the can-can or maybe a twerk. He halted in a flash when the medic looked up at him and then cleared his throat,

"Do you got a prognosis doc?"

"Needs a couple of stitches but then it should be perfect."

Dean felt the kid stiffen up in pure horror then watched as the brown eyes flooded with fear, like the blonde woman in front of them had suggested open surgery. But then she probably might as well have to an eight year old girl. Her bottom lip wobbled so much it nearly fell off as hot tears began to well up,

"Uncle Dean _please_ no. Stitches will hurt and I'm scared. I don't want them."

"Take it easy now kiddo."

"I want papa."

"Please squirt, I mean come on you're breakin' my freaking heart over here."

He took a seat beside her and she launched into his stomach like she wanted him to protect her from the gathering storm and which he nearly responded to with uncle-based fury before he remembered that stitches were for the greater good _and_ being performed by a fully trained physician and not some backstreet butcher hacking her up for spare parts.

Luckily however on seeing the terror the woman thankfully switched up her approach and so pitched back up offering a genuine smile out and clutching a small white sponge on a stick, which she held up so that her shaking little patient could see it.

"I'm going to use my magic wand, okay sweetie?"

Brown eyes blinked back hesitantly,

"Is it _really_ magic?"

"It sure is," the physician nodded easily, "Because if I rub the end of it over where you hurt yourself and say the magic words, it makes the pain go away and it means you won't feel it when I stitch that cut up and make it better. Do you think you would be brave enough to let me try and see what happens?"

For a moment there was pause.

"Uncle Dean?"

"Right here, m' not leavin' for like, even a second okay squirt? So how 'bout we try out those magic words huh?"

In response the little girl chewed her lip down briefly but then sucked a steadying breath in and gave a hesitant nod, which made the little pigtails swing and bump on her shirt front which bore a picture of a tiara wearing fairy with a wand and so really the whole _magic_ thing had been a pretty good hook. Dean pulled her closer and then kissed her smack on the hairline as the blonde headed physician kept up the genuine smile which she presumably saved for her nerviest patients.

"Here we go then sweetie _bibbidi bobbidi boo_."

"Like from Cinderella?"

"Exactly the same ones."

Dean watched as the sponge began to circle the wound site, but even though the kid flinched a little at the sensation and then clamped her eyes tight shut, she let the magic work with the type of total innocence that he had never known really and which was probably as a result of the place he had grown up. But he was happy that the little girl in front of him still believed it and in fairies and unicorns.

He kind of hoped she always would.

Finishing with the wand the blonde reached for the needle so it was therefore a good thing the kid kept her eyes closed. Even so though Dean started to talk to her anyway not wanting her to blink and then suddenly freak out at the sight of a needle so close to her eyeball.

"How 'bout we give this big pink sucker a name then?"

He hefted the bear up then shuddered.

Fucking thing.

"What big pink sucker?" the kid frowned back,

"Berenstain Bear in the psychedelic colors over here. Because I was thinkin' we name him _Chucky_ or like _Killer_ or _no wait_ what was the name of the bear in that kids' movie who was supposed to be kind but was like really freakin' evil an' tried to throw the other toys in the garbage? Remember that?"

Her brows bobbed once more which was probably not a good thing considering the careful stitching that was going on below.

"Do you mean Lots o' Huggin' Bear?"

Dean clicked his fingers,

"Uh huh _that_ one."

"But he was a baddie and my teddy is a good teddy."

Dean took a hesitant look at the thing and the big plastic eyes which were nothing but black ovals that had been glued on crookedly to either side of the head, but for whatever reason seemed to follow him like laser beams no matter which way he pointed the thing. He half expected the damn head to freaking twizzle, because it _had_ to be haunted.

"M' gonna stand by the name here."

Beside him the blonde woman tied the last little stitch knot and then straightened to check out her own handiwork, before nodding and then thankfully stowing the wrappers and bent handled scissors and loose pieces of thread, which she emptied into the trash before chirping back brightly.

"Good news sweetie I'm all finished."

" _Already_?"

Not surprisingly the kid seemed in raptures about the fact and as she opened her eyes it was with a brand new childish reverence for the woman she had been so suspicious of before, but who she _now_ clearly held up like some sort of saviour with magical powers and possible ties to the fairy realm. Dean reached over and turned the little face towards him so he could see the patch up work for himself, since he had been on the receiving end of more than a few stitches so therefore considered himself a better connoisseur than most.

His girl had been the best stitcher-upper.

Fuck he missed her.

But it seemed that the brisk blonde could make a passable run at them too, since the three tiny butterflies were neat and cinched in tightly at the top of the brow line where lasting marks could be concealed and which would heal away to nothing.

Dean beamed,

"Hey look at that squirt, like nothin' ever happened. In fact you _sure_ you were hurt?"

Her lips twitched up at him,

"Uncle Dean, _yes_."

Beyond them the lady medic was searching through a metal cabinet that had been placed at a lean on the bumpy grass floor and which honestly looked like it might topple over and crush her beneath it, but which luckily held firm. Beside him the little girl suddenly caught hold of his sleeve cuff and then pulled him in towards her with a hand cupped around her mouth, in the universal kid sign for having some kind of secret which he instantly leaned in towards.

"Got a problem or somethin' squirt?"

"Uncle Dean I want to name the teddy after the lady."

He pointed towards the medic,

"Hold up, you mean _her_?"

"Uh huh, except, I'm not sure what her name is."

Dean had no clue why in the hell she was whispering, like knowing the names of strangers was a hanging offense. But then again to a kid who was as well brought up as she was, posing personal questions to her elders and betters was probably considered a pretty sizeable _no_ and so to that end the lawman patted her loosely on the shoulder and then nodded back with a wink,

"No problem, m' on it kid."

Her smile was easily worth it and more.

Even so he waited just a couple of seconds until the blonde had turned back to them with a lollipop in hand, which made the kid practically bounce in excitement because not only was the women a practitioner in fairy magic, but she _also_ handed out candy as well and so to that end she may as well have been the freaking second coming to a wide eyed and probably mildly concussed little child.

"Here you go sweetie."

Dean stepped into business as the kid took the sweet treat,

"Nice work by the way. Real neat patch up you pulled on my kid there. So, do you got a name?"

He held out his hand and watched her blink suspiciously like she considered him beneath her or like maybe she had seen his type of chirpiness before. But eventually however she shook his hand back politely and nearly crushed his bones in the process, because holy _hell_ was the woman ripped and she knew it too.

"I'm Doctor Beth Phoenix."

Dean grinned,

"Well then, I have some good news for you doctor, because the kid here wants to name her brand new teddy after you as thanks for the magic an' the stitches an' the lollipop. Which in kid language is like basically havin' a _country_ named for you."

Doctor Phoenix offered up a crinkle-eyed smile,

"Oh honey, I'm flattered."

In response to her enthusiasm the little girl pressed herself hard into Dean, in a sudden wash of embarrassment at being the focus of the adults which was too freaking cute. Dean lifted up the bear and then held it out with a smirk towards the woman who actually recoiled,

"Oh my word - ,"

"Doctor Phoenix, meet Beth the teddy bear."

"Well, my goodness what an - _interesting_ color she is."

If Dean had been a troublesome five year old and not simply a man with the _mental_ age of one, he might have thrown the bear her way and made her come face to face with I, but in the end he simply hid it back beneath his arm as he slid from the bed still beaming like an idiot because maybe the hideous teddy _could_ be kind of fun. Then he turned to help the kid as she hopped down beside him holding the lollipop in her hand like she had found the holy grail.

Beth was still backed up warily to the cabinet and Dean grinned hard at that.

"So, what's the deal? Are me an' the kid all good to go or what here?"

Blonde hair nodded back at him,

"Oh yes of course. But I would watch her closely for any signs of concussion over the next twelve to twenty four hours and if you have any concerns then bring her straight back to see me or to your family physician. I have a card with the symptoms if you need any pointers."

"Uh thanks," Dean shrugged, "But I think m' good on that."

He thought that it was probably best not to mention that in the course of his tenure on the secret local taskforce he had been knocked out and concussed like most people had meals and so therefore, like his brothers was well versed on the symptoms, having lived through them plenty. Instead he simply turned, pushing the tiny little kidlet in front of him as he guided her back towards the shouting mass outside, because time was moving on and they needed to find the others.

Except she stopped on the threshold shyly,

"I have to say thank you."

"Huh?"

Dean blinked cluelessly back for a second, but then watched as the kid spun herself into the tent again, still clinging to his hand to give herself some added confidence and bashfully tapping her toes into the ground, but facing the blonde woman and then whispering the words out because of _course_ the kid would. She was too freaking _good_.

"Thank you for helping to make me all better."

Beth smiled,

"My pleasure sweetheart,"

"Uh, uncle Dean, can I have my lollipop now pretty _pretty_ please?"

Dean nodded back at her in sort of a stupor, because how could a kid be more socially mature than him? But she was and so he followed as she then gambled out merrily back out into the sunshine and Dean felt something churn in his gut. Because on the one hand his pint sized buddy was clearly over the trauma of having been launched like a rocket into the air, but on the _other_ hand they still had to explain to her father why his beloved child had medical thread in her brow and how it had happened on _his_ watch.

Dean cursed himself.

He would have been the worst freaking parent on earth. He had only had the kid for a grand total of thirty minutes and her poor head had been bust open. What kind of babysitter was he? Roman would kick his butt and he would happily take it because he totally _deserved_ it.

Demon Beth bear grinned at him and he snorted,

"Like _you_ can judge me."

But he could still hear it smirking as they pressed through the crowd towards the tiny little fences and white picket pens where the petting zoo was and where traumatized chickens and little bitty piglets were being stroked backwards and whacked too hard by a myriad of tiny hands. Including those of the two black haired Samoan boys double-teaming a ballsy and bleating pygmy goat as familiar nasal tones tried gently to convince them not to poke it in the eyeballs.

Roman was stood behind and the little girl broke away and careered in double speed towards him,

"Papa look, I got a lollipop."

"Hey baby, is that right and what else – ,"

Dean shut his eyes hoping to miss the moment that the butterfly stitches and big red welt fell sharply into view. But he still saw it in his mind's eye as vividly as a painting and _yep_ , sure enough when he opened his orbs up, his take on the whole scene was instantly proven right, since his brother was knelt low in front of his daughter thumbing the wound in horror.

"Oh my baby girl, what happened to your eye?"

His kid shrugged back casually,

"Well I kinda fell off the bounce house, but Beth said I was really brave which is why she gave me the lollipop _and_ she used real fairy magic to make it not hurt and she said the magic words. I can tell you them if you like but I should probably whisper, because they're a secret."

Perhaps unsurprisingly her father failed to keep up with her,

"Who's Beth baby?"

"The lady that stitched up my head. I was kind of scared of her but Uncle Dean kept an eye on her and then he was funny and made me laugh lots. But I got a lollipop because I was the only one who had stitches."

Dean snorted.

"Keep sayin' it kid, make me feel worse."

Roman looked up at him and the copper blonde hung his head low, because he could barely bring himself to even _look_ at the big man whose beautiful firstborn child he had scarred for life in all likelihood thanks to his stupidity. He hated himself. Maybe it was better that he and his girl had never had children, because clearly he was _not_ freaking cut out for the task and so therefore it was probably better for her that she had left him believing he would ace it rather than having to watch him fail.

He looked up to find his brother still staring.

Holy crap.

Roman tweaked lovingly at the strands of braided hair and then turned her gently towards the goat pen beyond them where Seth was trying to look like he was _not_ listening in, but which his sympathetic flash towards the copper blonde then rumbled. How in the world had the _twins_ caused less trouble?

"How about you go and help out with your brothers while I talk to Uncle Dean huh?"

Damn it he was screwed.

"Okay papa."

His daughter went to skip off merrily but then turned and ran back towards the sheepish copper blonde before extracting the horrifying teddy from his armpit and then chasing back over to where her little brothers were and hanging the monstrosity over the barrier with a grin of excitement,

"Look what I got Uncle Seth."

"Holy, _oh wow_. Uh _yeah_. That is _something_."

Dean caught himself smiling fleetingly at that, but the look fast vanished as the big man moved towards him and then backed them up a little with nothing more than his body mass, presumably because he had no intention of letting his kids hear it while he ripped their favorite uncle into shreds. Dean went with it but still felt his heart lurch bodily before suddenly word vomiting.

Everything came out.

"Fuck. Look, I know m' the worst person ever an' you probably never want me anywhere near her again. But I _swear_ this kid was like a god damn fuckin' _walrus_ an' he never shoulda been on there in _like_ a million years. But he kinda came from nowhere an' fuckin' _crashed_ into her an' I was too far back to catch her an' shit, an' like I know that sounds like a lame excuse or whatever but - _fuck._ I mean I'm _sorry_ okay? Because you know I love that kid an' I never would have _ever_ meant – ,"

Hands clamped his cheeks and stopped him,

"Uce, whoa."

His blue eyes blinked a little,

"Huh - what?"

His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he was breathing too hard beneath the weight of his shame, but at some point the bigger man had moved to stand in front of him with an expression of nothing but brotherly concern, which confused and stifled the copper blonde in equal measure.

Roman cupped his nape,

"Babe, I'm not mad at you okay?"

"Uh, did you say _not_ mad?"

Roman snorted,

"Kids hurt themselves and I mean _all_ the freaking time uce. _Oh my god_ they hurt themselves. But not because of you. Do you honestly think I would ever believe you could hurt her? Never babe, you hear me? Besides I'm _glad_ you were there."

Dean stumbled over the words,

"How does _that_ work?"

Roman rubbed his nape again which in _normal_ circumstances Dean might have backed up from since everyone could see, but which Roman clearly needed, being in full papa bear mode and which in spite of himself Dean felt kind of soothed by as well, because the more the big man talked the more he bought into it and began to feel less and less like the screw up that he was.

Because he still was right?

Roman certainly seemed not to think so.

"Babe the only thing that concerns me as a parent when one of my crazy kids hurts themselves somehow, is that they have someone _there_ – someone who can comfort them and make it not scary and who can make them laugh when they're getting stitches sewn into their heads."

His big hands tousled the copper blonde tangle.

Dean cleared his throat,

"So to recap here then - ,"

"Thank you for taking care of my baby girl, _brother_."

Roman purposefully furnished the last word with some extra love and then threw in a punch that clattered Dean backwards as it caught him fraternally but pretty hard in the arm, but which was in _itself_ okay because it meant they were still family and that he had not been wholly at fault for the fact their kid was sporting a cut.

Dean blinked over.

In the goat pen beyond them Seth and the kid were keeping the twins from setting fires, both figuratively and in their case probably literally and with the big pink scary teddy propped up on a haybale, probably plotting a slow and very painful ending. But even _that_ hardly mattered since everyone looked happy enough and healthy and like - well, _family_.

 _His_ crazy freaking family.

Roman continued to tousle his hair absently and Dean felt himself lean back into the touch, like a broken scruffy street hound that had found a too nice household and was loving every second of life there he could get.

"Hey babe?"

"Something wrong man?"

He practically hummed the words out because life was fucking _good_.

"What in the _hell_ is that pink thing?"

"Oh."

* * *

 **All the feels! Nothing like a little bit of mushiness huh?! Same time next week then!**


	34. Tyger Tyger

**The title for this one is based on the William Blake poem. The content is not. That's based entirely on my crazy little brain!**

 **Cheryl24, I see Dean sneaking in by night dressed as a ninja and stealing the pink teddy from out of her arms before drowning it and replacing it with something way cuter and less scary!**

 **Not-that-kinda-gurl, Aww, your welcome. We're all missing the big guy, but he's here every week in these stories being awesome! Glad that last one made you smile. This one isn't at cute but it's got all the brother feels!**

 **Rebel8954, That toy you are describing sounds horrific! Mr. Clown as a name makes it even worse! I think Mr. Clown and Beth the pink teddy bear might be secretly in leagues to take over the world!**

 **Mandy, Nearly first this week which is good enough! I think Uncle Seth is glad to be regular Seth in this chapter. The twins do take it out of it him a bit. No wonder Dean is happier to be Roman's daughter's favourite in these! Sorry you're still having a bad time. It** _ **will**_ **get better!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thanks lovely!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Aww, thanks! I just saw Dean completely freaking out about Roman's daughter getting hurt and beating himself up about it. And of course Roman would be there to make it all okay in the end. Uncle Dean rules!**

 **Derick Lindsey, I always think little girls are like mini adults and of course any child of Roman's would be totally down to earth and mature. Even if she couldn't tell that her precious teddy bear was pure evil. This chapter and the circus is really just a set up for the moment of peril. It's a big one this week!**

 **Skovko, Your dad let you take the blame for catapulting a child?! That is such a dad move! Glad you liked Uncle Dean. Even though I know you aren't big into children, I hope the lure of Uncle Deano was good enough?! Plus, Roman's daughter is pretty stinking cute (if I do say so myself).**

 **Minnie1015, If you had nightmares about the pink bear then I take no responsibility...however if you them dreamed about Dean showing up to rescue you I take full credit! Hopefully no nightmares from this one though, just all the brother feels!**

 ***Hums generic circus music*...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Tyger Tyger**

Dean threw the kernel of popcorn into the stratosphere and then tipped his head back to try and catch it in his mouth. But which required him having to lean his body so far that he then nearly toppled off the hard wooden stands which were slowing beginning to empty of people as the patrons clustered with him took their belongings and stood up and then tried to hustle their babbling children back out towards the sunshine from the billowing big top.

Damn it.

He grunted as the troublesome piece of popcorn ricocheted back off the tip of his nose and then fell between the gaps in the seating and into whatever circus bowels lay hidden below. Or to where the fire breather secretly made out with the lion tamer, since the stands were basically like bleachers.

It hadto be kinky behind the scenes.

It _had_ to be.

Dean snorted at that then tried to work out a loose kernel that had lodged in way too hard between his upper teeth, because while he totally loved the taste of salty popcorn _fuck_ it was basically impossible to eat. Or at least without breaking a crown on that one bit that never popped up but which was hidden in a piece that actually _had_ , like some sort of tooth shattering sleeper cell cluster bomb. He tossed a second piece up and caught it perfectly.

"Hell yeah."

Dean Ambrose was officially the man.

Beyond him in the ring in the middle of the bleachers there were a handful people clearing up the debris which consisted of confetti which had been blown from a cannon in combination with a little person who had been blasted onto a trampoline, in a feat that had genuinely been pretty impressive for a show that was basically meant to cater for kids. In fact he was still trying to work out how the hell they had managed it, because it had to have been a magic trick or there were two of them, right?

His earpiece crackled,

" _Hey man, has anyone tried to make contact_?"

"Does it sound like they have?"

He spoke a little too loud and a woman who was corralling her small child towards the stairway paused and knitted her brows in hard, like he was potentially some lunatic or something and which honestly would have _not_ been too far from the truth. But not for the reasons she was probably thinking.

Even so, being sat on his own at a circus _and_ talking to himself was hardly the best look and so to that end he cleared his throat and then sat himself up straighter, brushing loose kernels from the front of his beat up leather and taking his boots from the low wooden stalls in front.

Seth tried a second time.

" _No need to be a smart mouth. I meant what can you see out there_?"

Dean blew out a breath.

He could see precious little beyond the sand covered main show ring which was circled by the tall chain link metal cage, which had presumably been put up to keep the tigers from the public. Or perhaps the other way around. Because life had taught him that people were morons and _especially_ with wild creatures.

Except not wild but _should_ have been.

Because beyond the happy clowns and the trapeze and the confetti bombs, the circus they were surveilling had a more lucrative side too, which comprised the wholly _not_ legal trade of wild animals which they sold to hopeful buyers using the cover of their show. It was pretty clever really, because while a cageful of tigers in a backyard in the suburbs would have raised a brow or two, for a circus it was seen as a kind of _normal_ type thing, which they had hidden behind to sell maybe thirty tigers or more. Mostly to wealthy businessmen with teeny tiny testicles..

Roman cut in over his musings,

" _Babe, you good_?"

"Hey uce? Do you think that ownin' a tiger makes your penis grow or somethin'?"

" _No clue babe_ ," Roman shot back," _Because I certainly never needed one what with being all set on that front._ "

Dean beamed in response then chuckled a little, which more than likely barked out too loud since the blonde still towing the snivelling kid behind her looked back up suspiciously from the bottom most row, before hustling her child from the tent in its entirely and probably putting in an emergency police call. Pedophile was not exactly the look he had been hoping to go with, but he seemed to have nailed it.

His earpiece crackled a third time,

" _Dean come on, you have to keep us in the loop man_."

"What is this? My first rodeo?"

He could practically _hear_ Seth roll his eyes back at him, which was potentially not even humanly possibly but seemed like it whenever their littlest brother was involved. Seth just had a _way_ of wiring through his disapproval, however and _wherever_ he happened to be, which in that moment was in the back of their trusty surveillance truck with their powerhouse and an entire local _precinct_ of police, all of whom were waiting for Dean to give the green light to bust in. But _not_ before they had their crucial evidence.

Seth hauled a breath in,

" _Is there nobody you can see there that looks like they could be our contact_?"

"Yeah, all of 'em," Dean snorted in return, because there were probably close to ten or twelve people in his eyeline, but each of whom looked so totally suspicious that his instinctive police warning bells were ringing off the hook. From the popcorn seller leaning casually on the cleared stands, to the men in the ring hauling brooms over the floor, there was not a person there that would not have sold their own grandma had he thrown them a bunch of twenties and offered to take her off their hands.

In summary then he mistrusted every last single one of them.

"Excuse me buddy?"

Huh?

Dean looked sharply back up.

Below him stood by the bottom of the empty bleachers there was a man staring up at him with one foot up on the lowest bench, in the stance of somebody who was trying to look innocuous but which the hunch of his shoulders then lessened at once since, instead they made him seem tense and bizarrely _cagey_ , which was never a mark of innocence.

Not in his experience at least.

In fact even the _smile_ fell short of being genuine, which was particularly hard considering how the man looked. Because based on his clothes he was one of the three clowns from earlier who had basically made Dean shudder since he fucking _hated_ the things and had even _before_ he had been chased through the woods by one, because they were not _remotely_ natural.

How were they still a thing for kids?

His hand twitched near his holster but he resisted the urge to draw it since it would hardly have screamed the words _undercover man_ and besides which his new clown friend was not _too_ horrifically scary, since at some point he had removed the creepy orange topped skull cap and which meant that his own springy hair was in full view.

He was not a huge guy since he was probably less than six foot, but what he lacked in height inches he balanced out with his bulk, since he looked like he worked out or bent bars or wrestled elephants or however the hell circus people liked to spend their free nights.

Bobo the clown called up to him a second time,

"Dude, the show is over."

"Holy crap so it is. Hey thanks for lettin' me know man or I coulda been here forever."

Dean beamed as he spoke and made it reach up his eyes too, because unlike the creepy clown man he _knew_ how bullshitting worked and so to that end he even threw in a cheerful sounding chuckle.

Bobo blinked back at him in bafflement.

"Uh, sure, whatever man, but look, we kinda need you to get outta here so we can get this place cleaned."

Dean tossed up a brand new handful of popcorn,

"Not happenin' buddy."

"Excuse me?"

For a second there was a pause as the popcorn made a loop beneath the overhead spotlights then tumbled back in a rapid sort of plummet towards the earth which Dean very nonchalantly moved his head to counter before catching the snack and chewing on it hard, which rewarded his cocky front with _another_ non-popped kernel, not to mention a chipped molar plus a bitten back cuss.

"M' kinda waitin' on someone here dude."

"In here?"

"I mean, this is where they said, yeah."

Bobo hesitated then narrowed his eyes, like he was running the pros and cons of whatever came next through but which might as well have lit a freaking neon _sign_ since nobody who was honest would have ever reacted like that, _or_ said his name.

"Jon Moxley?"

" _Nice work man, it looks like we're on here_."

Dean shrugged back coolly,

"I mean that kinda depends on who exactly wants to know. 'Cos I'll be honest man, I'm not so good with like, _strangers_. Kinda like to know who m' talkin' to y' know? An' I _especially_ hate when people try an' mess with me by tellin' me to be somewhere then not showin' up."

Roman was clearly beaming in the surveillance van,

" _Lay it on him babe_."

Dean cracked his knuckles for added effect because that was who Jon Moxley was for the most part, not to mention that he was there to illegally but a big cat and so a man who was in market to buy a freaking _tiger_ would have hardly been some kind of shrinking violet right?

Hold up.

Did that mean that _Mox_ had a tiny penis?

His brand new clown friend put his hands out,

"Hold on man, now hold on a second here before you get too heated because we're still all cool."

Dean smirked.

The kid was on the ropes.

Not that he _was_ a kid anymore exactly since he was probably maybe the same age as him, even though it was hard to tell for sure beneath the clown paint since theoretically he could have been a hundred and five. Either way though he was clearly worried about the sale dying and so was keen to make amends.

Dean narrowed his eyes,

"So are you the freakin' guy I've been talkin' to or what here?"

He pretty much expected the reply to be _yes_ since the man knew his name and what he was there for and so _had_ to be contact. Except instead he shook his head and kept his hands held up like he was facing a wild tiger and which was so damn ironic that the policeman nearly laughed.

"No, but wait here and I'll get the guy for you."

"I'll give you two minutes."

"O-okay, I hear you man."

"But _only_ because I like you, plus I came a real long way for this."

By which he meant he had come from a little over six miles away to the patch of empty scrubland that the tent had been pitched on in a suburb on the outskirts of their city warehouse base. But the clown man hardly needed to know about _that_ part and thankfully nor did he seem to care to ask since he simply nodded keenly and then hustled off beyond the bleachers to find the _real_ contact.

In response Seth blasted out loud in the earpiece from where he was obviously hunched in too close over the mike, which was possibly because he was excited by their progress or more likely since he was crammed in with not only their powerhouse but also a police captain.

In other words then, it was a bit of a squeeze.

" _Remember man we need him to say something concrete before we can bring the cops in_."

Dean grunted back at him,

"Easy breaker one, we're not remakin' fuckin' Smokey and the Bandit here, so you wanna maybe try an' stop bellowin' in my ear? Besides, m' startin' to get the stink eye anyway since m' the only one here without a freakin' kid. We might need to look into borrowin' one for next time."

" _Not sure it works like that man_."

"Freakin' should," he grouched back,

Beyond him between the bleachers his chirpy new clown friend popped back up flanked by two other men, both in the same costume not to mention the garish makeup and which was totally his kind of bad fucking luck. Because how was it a clowns and not the lion tamer that was selling big cats on?

Did it _have_ to be the clowns?

Dean recognized the newcomers from their earlier performance but for the first time took them in with his long time policeman eyes, concentrating first on the leanest of the trio, who had his black hair in braids and was striding out first, like maybe he ran the operation or something. Next he looked to the third man who, while not being the tallest was built like a building or something heftier than that, like a solar system perhaps and who had short buzz clipped haircut and a look of suspicion which bubbled from his pores and bode _really_ well.

Not.

Bobo pointed and all three of looked up at him.

Dean mentally made an internal sign of the cross. But _externally_ he made sure that his expression stayed neutral, like he met with big cat smugglers all the time. Dean unhooked his work boot from the bench in front of him and then stood with the box of popcorn still in his hand as he turned and began to plod down the steps towards them, wincing mildly as the blood flowed back into his butt. Because _holy crap_ how long had he been sitting there?

He murmured to his teammates at he went,

"Looks like there are three of 'em."

" _Be careful okay babe?_ "

"No worries uce, m' super careful. I mean m' like a freakin' cat here."

Dean missed a step which sent his legs between the slats and then nearly pitched him forwards clean onto his forehead, which probably would have been one hell of a bad introduction, but luckily he banged into the hand rail instead and looked up to find the three men blinking back at him. Because how was it possible that _he_ was the comedy act when he was staring at a literal troupe of show clowns?

He smoothed out his leather then laughed,

"Nice trip, huh?"

" _Babe was that you falling_?"

Dean bypassed the brotherly worrying and then took the rest of the staircase with a little more care, before pulling up in front of his three smuggler contacts and then standing for a second since not one of them moved. It meant that _he_ was forced to take the reins of the conversation while they studied him condescendingly from behind their garish paint.

He growled at them,

"Come on, are you guys clowns or freakin' mimes here?"

"Do you have money?"

"Excuse me?"

Dean blinked in surprise as the low tones of the building sized man in the grouping rumbled out at him beneath closely knitted brows as he swept the policeman and his leather and battered denims with a look of total and obvious mistrust, since Dean hardly looked like a man who had funding. Which was probably because the _real_ him was not, but _Moxley_ on the other hand was a skeevy little millionaire.

Dean smiled back thinly,

"Oh, well, y' know, sorry man but my gold suit is kinda at the cleaners right now, because the eighteen carat thread on the buttons keeps snaggin'. But next time I'll wear my blood diamond encrusted baseball hat an' rhino skin boots."

" _Dean, cool it_."

His blues eyes flashed.

Fortunately however his pissy mood worked perfectly, which he had figured it would since Mox was an ass and one who took badly to people questioning his finances. Obviously he had managed to make it convincing sell, since the tall lean looking man then put a sudden hand out and used it to back up his bulkier companion who had a painted on smile but a real life frown.

It was an interesting contrast.

Dean kept glaring as the man was pushed backwards but then let his eyes shift towards the man who had taken his place and who on closer inspection looked older than the rest of them, which was probably another reason he taken control.

New clown put a hand out,

"My name is Kofi."

Dean shook it,

"Guess that makesyou the guy I've been talkin' to then?"

In response to the query the leaner man put a hand out and then used it to steer Dean closer to the stands, to a point where he figured that no one could hear them and which he appreciated not at all because he _hated_ being touched. To make that point clear he shrugged clear of the warm palm and then frowned back hotly which the clown seemed to ignore as instead he lowered his voice to a whisper,

"Been talking to about _what_ exactly?"

Dean bit back a retort.

Evidently his contact was not new to criminality, since he had a natural caution which had probably served him well, but which therefore _also_ meant getting him to make a confession was going to be harder than the undercover man had bet. But fuck it, whatever, he kind of liked the challenge.

" _Dean he has to say it_."

He bit back an _I know_.

Looking between the clown men he shrugged his shoulders loosely like the cloak and daggers stuff meant little to him because he needed them to think he was just a rich moron who needed the whole situation spelt out.

"Look man, I mean, I came here to buy a cat here, but if m' in the wrong place or if m' talkin' to the wrong guys then m' gonna have take my money an' split, because m' here holdin' up _my_ end of this bargain, but all m' gettin' here is the freakin' run around."

" _Keep going man_."

Dean plunged a hand deep into his pocket where a bundle of counterfeit notes had been concealed and which he then began to count through like he was checking he had enough and which focused the three clowns' eyes on the Franklins which would have been funny had he not been trying to reel them in.

He put the money back and then brushed his hands off,

"But if you got nothin', m' outta here."

"Now hold up."

It was Kofi who spoke, but the bigger man who blocked him in a purposeful sidestep that cut him clean off, because honestly it was like they had rolled a truck in front of him or a furious bull elephant since he had basically they same effect. In response the copper blonde ground to a forced halt and then narrowed his brows in to match the cold stare, since it seemed that Goliath was by no means a fan of his.

Probably best the guy didn't work in the front of house.

Kofi tried again,

"Now now man, did you hear me say we had nothing, or is that you gettin' heated for no reason over there?"

"No reason?" Dean glowered, "Is that what you call it? Gettin' me here an' wastin' my time. But I got a freakin' cage built back home already which needs a lion to finish it off an' which _you_ told _me_ you could get me no problem."

Bobo the original clown blinked,

"Lion?"

"Fuckin' _yeah_ man."

"But-but we were going to sell you a tiger."

Dean smirked.

 _Bingo_.

Instantly his earpiece exploded with movement and the sound of the surveillance truck doors opening wide as the police captain that the commissioner had ordered to help them launched from the back to bellow orders at his troops and prepare them to storm the stalls, rides and amusements that comprised the crappy circus and its sizeable spread since they needed to try and stop everyone from leaving.

His brothers were barking at him too.

" _Nice work man_."

" _Hold on, we're coming babe_."

But it would take them a while to get there and so to that end Dean let the smirk slide from his face as he focused instead on not busting the operation and clueing the clowns in to the approaching flood of copes, since no way could he take on all three of them single handed. He chuckled a second time like an idiot.

Bo would have been proud.

"But I mean lions an' tigers are like, kinda the same thing right? With the teeth an' the claws an' that kinda crap? Because as long as I leave here with one of 'em I don't care that much. So how 'bout we start doin' a little bit of business here 'stead of standin' around chattin' about their freakin' gene pools?"

Kofi snorted,

"I'm going to need that money."

"Hey, it's yours man, comin' right up."

Dean put his hand super slowly in his pocket, hoping that the raid would kick in and save his hide since the bucks he was pretending were his personal finances had been leant to them from an evidence room by Steph with explicit instructions to keep their hands on it. Which probably meant not passing it across to a trio of face painted god damn cat smugglers. But what choice did he have?

He needed backup.

 _Fast_.

"Uh…"

"Hand it over man."

Dean was banking on disaster, but then _got_ his backup, sort of, in a _burst_ of sound from outside, like somebody had started a riot or something or was winding a parade float in through the crowd. Which it even could even have been were it not for all the shouting and the all important word _police_ being bellowed on repeat. Frowning, the clown behemoth stepped in bewilderment towards the tent flaps and in response Dean pulled his gun loose,

"Police, stay where you are."

"Oh shit man," Bobo gaped at him in bewilderment, "Is he _not_ buying a tiger?"

Dean snorted back,

"Nah, not sure I could really fit one in my apartment, besides one of my neighbors got a kitten 'bout a month back an' the buildin' is totally kickin' up a stink because this woman on the fifth floor says she has allergies so m' not sure a tiger is really gonna swing it y' know?"

In response Kofi glared,

"I bet you think you're smart, huh?"

Dean shrugged,

"Not like, _book_ smart but m' smarter than you since m' the only one that is holdin' a gun here."

The clowns glared back at him, ironically unamused and while the stillness was initially pleasing, it then became _too_ silent. Like they were talking but not. Bobo surreptitiously nodded his head in a signal to an unknown person stood somewhere behind and Dean turned fully expecting a sudden sneak attack, since for all he knew the troupe consisted of _nineteen_ clowns, the other sixteen of whom were busy waiting to pounce on him and beat him to a pulp.

But instead was no one there.

He'd been played.

"Aww fu..."

He was halfway through the sentence when he was hit from behind heavily by what felt like an entire _herd_ of Pamplona bulls and based on which had to be the building sized baddie.

For a second his head seemed to stay where it was, while his body moved beneath it in a strange sort of double time, because the knock was so sudden his brain was totally left behind, watching as the rest of him was propelled like a cannonball, but _without_ the trampoline to break his fall, since instead he was thrown hard into the lower bleachers before landing on his stomach with the clown man on top.

His gun skittered off as his brain caught back up to him. Because whiplash was always helpful.

Dean covered up his head and then hissed as the first blow rained down hard on him. It felt like a cudgel to the base of his skull and was then followed up by a second and a third hit as a boot flew in too and kicked him hard in the ribs. Because evidently the trio were not happy with the deception, but _more_ than happy to let him know it. He threw out a hand and tried to use it to claw himself a foothold or a handle in the hopes that he could somehow scramble out from beneath the thighs, but it failed and instead a knuckle caught him on the temple which threw stars into his vision.

Kofi was screaming from somewhere behind,

"Come on, before they find us."

But their big man refused to listen and instead slammed a meaty palm in over his captive's head in a manoeuvre, like he was trying to smush Dean's whole face into the dry ground and which immediately sent pressure bursting in through his brain until Dean was spitting and clawing to break free from it. His head was going to be crushed like a peanut.

But then voices exploded near them.

"Police, back it up."

"Dean – ,"

"Hey, get off him."

Looking up from the spikey grass pillow where he had buried his head, but not remotely through choice, Dean was rewarded with the sight of his brothers plus about a million more cops flooding into the tent, but in a haphazard chase behind fleeing circus members wearing lurid leotards which made it look like a dream and which _also_ meant there were way too many bodies to start firing. So an old fashioned brawl it was then.

Good.

Happily on seeing their _own_ powerhouse bearing in on him, the sullen meaty fisted clown clambered up onto his feet and instantly Dean felt his lungs become full size again as he watched Roman throw himself bellowing at the similarly bulky man with the fury of someone protecting their brother.

Fuck was Dean ever pleased to see his damn ass.

Beside him Seth had run headfirst into Bobo who had keenly been putting the boot into Dean's ribs and so like his bigger friend had similarly marked himself for a beatdown in familial retribution. Dean slowly pulled himself back up and then started to take stock of how many brain cells he had left.

He ran his name and date of birth through.

Hmmm.

Both seemed okay.

Hauling himself onto his feet somewhat unsteadily heblinked for a second into the chaos beyond, which was a veritable writhing _storm_ of shouting and bodies with a couple of bewildered patrons trapped and terrified in between. Honestly it was like the end of a zany sixties movie and so blowing a heavy breath out Dean moved to lumber in and hopefully usher the caught up bystanders to safety, but was thrown off by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind. He blinked a little then turned towards it.

Kofi was there looking pissed.

Fucking great.

Dean held his hands up innocently,

"Hey look, you knew the risks man, because I mean, you and your boys were hardly out here sellin' cookies like a couple a' girl scouts, so this is what you get, an' honestly m' surprised that _you_ seem so surprised by it, which is kinda unreal."

Kofi simply blinked back.

But then he started to throw some weird shapes in which began with him running on the spot on his toes, like he was mentally taking on a military assault course and which he then ramped up by beginning to grind and even sexily rolling his hip bones which then turned into a cartwheel and then finally a split legged launch, which was presumably either some attempt to scare him or was some weird pre-fight ritual.

Dean rolled his eyes and then slapped him.

Freaking _hard_.

Instantly the clown tumbled back onto his butt cheeks and then blinked in pure horror as he cupped his blooming cheek with a look that implied in his previous fisticuffs, guys had potentially been impressed by his routine. Dean merely shrugged,

"C' mon man, throw a punch or somethin'."

But nope.

Weird clown Kofi simply charged him instead, in a literal bounce to his feet like a basketball which he then used to propel himself closer in a blink before swooping behind the lawman with a nimble little elbow twist that felt kind of like a monkey had scrambled onto his back and was running rings around him. But one of those teensy cute ones that used their tail like an extra limb and stole explorers' hats.

In old time movies anyway.

Dean twisted out of it and then reversed the manoeuvre so that the painful elbow wrench instead became _his_ but at which point the lean clown took to his tiptoes and then flipped himself bodily which unravelled the shoulder twist and surprised Dean so much that he blinked for a second.

He was fighting _Flubber_.

How the hell was _that_ fair?

Knitting his brows and clenching his teeth hard, Dean curled a fist and went to stomp in, hoping to lay some serious hurt on the rubber man but then grinding to a halt as Kofi took to the sky with a feeling that started off low in his stomach and then rose rapidly as the feet sailed his way in a full bodied punt that Dean put a hand up to counter which successfully saved his face but by no means his stance, since the bottom of the clown shoes hit him clean in the ribcage and threw himself backwards like a ragdoll.

God damn it.

 _Ouch_.

His back hit something solid which seemed to flex beneath him but then snapped and continued to hurl him vertebra first, in a horizontal pitch onto the ground far below him. Or, to be more precise, onto the wire mesh as he landed in the middle of the ring on the panel that he had somehow bust clean through and then landed on.

Hard.

Never mind that the thing was supposed to be tiger proof to stop the big cats from launching out into the crowd. How were they fit for purpose if a _person_ could be pushed through them?

He made a note to look into that then rolled himself painfully onto his stomach before managing to climb back up onto his dusty hands and knees. Or okay, hand _singular_ since one of them was on his kidneys and his poor battered spine since his body was on fire. Presumably it was also the reason that Seth was shouting which was his usual response to their undercover man being hurt.

"Dean – ,"

The copper blonde waved a limp hand in response to him,

"M' fine, stop worryin'. Jus' need a minute here is all."

He knew it was unlikely that his brother could hear him, but he mumbled the words anyway because he thought they might help. Besides which he _had_ been hit in the head about ten times and so was feeling kind of woolly, not to mention _really old_ since all he could think was how creaky his bones were and how hard they would hurt once he had slept on them for a bit.

He heard his name a second time.

"Dean – ,"

It seemed more sort of panicked and so he turned his head towards it with a confused looking wince to find his littlest brother still grappling with the first clown but gesturing frantically to where _he_ was slumped, like he was trying to land a freaking helicopter or something and yelling fit to burst. Not that Dean could really, because boy oh boy was the chaos ever _noisy_. He lipread instead,

 _Dean get out of there_.

Huh?

Had he missed some sort of fire?

But nope.

Clearly not, because when he looked closer even _Kofi_ was staring back at him open mouthed at a point somewhere behind him. Only Dean had fallen for _that_ ruse before and so would _not_ be repeating it.

Except…

Except _maybe_ there was something in the look that seemed more hesitant this time, or like potentially there really _was_ some freaking bogeyman or a werewolf behind him or some kind of shit and besides which Seth was _definitely_ still shouting. Gritting his teeth he chanced a rapid look back and...

Nope no bogeyman. Only a tiger.

Hold up.

His stomach flipped clean over at that and he turned and blinked a second time.

Because stood right in front of him was a genuine fucking _tiger_ who had obviously been let loose, or had bust from its cage and was tensed in the circus ring with the tip of its long tail swishing which was _not_ a happy sign, as Dean had learnt from the cat on the fifth floor who had tried to slash his hand off when he had petted the thing and which therefore probably translated in behavior terms to its bigger and more _orangey_ wild relative as well.

Dean gulped hard then tried to shuffle back.

It looked at him.

Murderous nectar colored eyes swung his way, like a laser point and then locked into place with such conviction he may as well have been a stuffed pig on a plate, since nothing about the bristling predator looked friendly.

He was in _big_ trouble.

Dean reached for his gun and _then_ remembered that it was lost beneath bleachers and so that basically therefore he was completely on his own, with not even so much as a warning shot to fire off, which had kind of been his first and okay, so maybe his _only_ plan.

New plan then.

He needed to get out of there, because the ring was where the snarling maneater mostly lived and likely where it probably also felt ballsy. The wide world beyond however was a step out into the unknown and so hopefully a place that the tiger would keep back from. Well, that was what he was betting his life on at any rate.

Dean slid his butt cheeks back by a fraction and the thing stepped in closer but in a low sink towards the floor, like he was testing out each step and with its shoulder blades rotating in a slow but streamlined stalk.

Great.

Dean Ambrose was being hunted by a tiger.

In a _circus_ no less.

If he ever wrote his memoirs down then _that_ was going in as the opening chapter. Provided he lived that long of course. Since no _way_ could he ever move faster than a tiger.

Plans A through B had failed.

He needed a new strategy.

But what?

Putting a hand out to try to shuffle back a bit more Dean flinched as it landed on something long and hard, like he had put his hand down on a boa constrictor and which would honestly have pretty much capped off his luck. But when he looked round in panic he found something else staring up at him.

Not a snake but a whip.

Now _that_ he could use.

Dean launched towards it in a haphazard half sprawl that seemed to instantly trigger everything at once, since his sudden burst of movement made the tiger pound towards him, which _then_ coincided with his brothers looking up, because both of their voices carried over the chaos in tones of total horror which were not misplaced.

"Uce _no_ – ,"

"Dean get out of there."

But he was way beyond that point and so to that end snatched up the whip up then rolled into his back and cracked the thing as hard as he could manage, like Harrison Ford in _Raiders_.

 _Thwack_.

Holy crap it was loud.

In fact the whole _place_ paused and not least of all the tiger which had stopped uncertainly but still _way_ too close. Dean flailed the strap a second time which was far less impressive and barely even crackled but the proximity still worked and made the creature back up a little further.

It kind of looked like a pussy cat.

Not entirely though.

 _Thwack._

With each crack Dean kept on scooching his dusty butt cheeks backwards, watching as the tiger paced but kept out of the long whip length with the glower of a creature who had spied his mortal nemesis and was supremely pissed about it but not ballsy enough to take the risk.

Dean's back crashed up hard against the hoarding for the show ring and broad hands at once swooped in to hook him beneath the arms, which he may or may not have let out a little curse at since he he'd been looking so intently at the predator beyond him he had forgotten there were people stood out behind him too and one in particular who rumbled at him commandingly,

"Push up babe, come on I gotcha."

Dean braced hard and then kicked up as his brother hauled him suddenly up over the ring lip and then back as the tiger took his chance and surged in close, but luckily at which point a wall of uniforms slid in front of them with riot shields held up to plug in the gap. It made the beast skitter off in bewilderment then continue to pace and rumble from beyond.

Dean blew a breath out,

"What the fuck was _his_ problem? Because I was _tryin'_ to save him from endin' up in a tiny cage in a rapper's house or somethin'."

Roman pulled him further like he was trying to tow him over the border before the bleachers stopped him and which point he let go, but he kept his hands hovering close by like a parent as Dean hauled himself with a groan onto the bench. In the rest of the tent the chaos was tailing off some as the sheer numbers of shouting cops overwhelmed the circus men and as he looked towards the flaps that led back out into the open he could see his crooked clown trio being handcuffed and hauled back then marched off with each of them bearing some sort of knuckle injury.

Dean smirked at that.

His brothers had evidently hit them good.

"Dean. Are you okay man? You need to tell us where he got you, or if you need to see someone. And what about your head? Because that clown was hitting you pretty hard when we bust in here, so I'm going to hold up some fingers, okay man? And I need you tell me how many there are."

Dean blinked in bafflement.

"Three?"

"Hey stop guessing. I'm not holding them up yet."

"But you were _gonna_ go three, right?"

Black leather gloved hands pawed hard through his hairline as the youngest brother in their gang checked his health status for himself, but which made Dean snort in a weary sort of fondness because _had_ he in fact been mauled by a tiger, he was pretty sure it would have been pretty evident to them all in the shape of hot torrents of blood spraying loose from him, or his severed hand being chewed on back in the ring and so therefore the _lack_ of that meant he was probably in the clear on things.

Roman kneaded his neckline and blew a breath out,

"Damn babe. That was way too close."

"Yeah," Dean snorted, "I kinda noticed."

He batted Seth off and the younger man sighed but then reluctantly gave into it since his brother seemed not to be bleeding to death. Roman took a pew by his side and then flexed his knuckles out.

Dean smirked,

"Made him pay a little, huh uce?"

"No one hits my brother and lives to talk about it."

But the big man smiled too in a teasing sideways look, which restored the familial balance as each of them settled and let their levels of testosterone baseline out. Well, all except for their _littlest_ brother who continued to pace rapidly in a repetitive looking stalk, since his brain had always moved faster than the rest of them and so was probably on the court case that would follow the raid, or on the paperwork that Stephanie would need to support it.

Dean stooped down towards the floor with a grin,

"Hey man, look."

His box of partly eaten popcorn from earlier was lying by his feet with some of the kernels still untouched. Beyond a tiny little bit of possible trampling. But luckily _otherwise_ they seemed totally fine and so he scooped up a handful then tossed a single piece skywards before tipping his head to catch it.

But instead Seth snatched it.

Dean frowned,

"Hey come on man. Like, I _totally_ coulda caught that. Because m' gettin' kinda _good_ now. I mean, I think I found my sport. If catchin' tossed up food _is_ a sport or whatever. But which it one hundred percent _should_ be so m' gonna look into that an' see if I can make it a thing."

Seth rolled his eyes at him,

"It came off the _floor_ man, so no way are you eating it."

"Fuckin' _buzzkill_."

Roman laughed and then returned the hand to the copper blonde hairline which he tousled through harshly with a big brawny thumb, before plunging a hand into the bottom of the popcorn and pulling loose a helping of kernels for himself. Tossing them back he began to chomp on them which their younger brother threw his hands up at in disgust, before sighing and then evidently giving in to his own hunger.

"Fine, but stop hogging them and these had better be salted."

Dean threw a new piece up with a smile.

Because okay so maybe things had not been _textbook_ in the way that their cases occasionally were and _sure_ he had nearly been lunch for a rabid carnivore, but there they were happy and banged up but intact and hoovering in popcorn like it was some sort of nectar since none of them had eaten since their early breakfast at dawn. Frankly they probably would have snaffled up _most_ things.

But life was good though.

He caught the popcorn in his mouth then chomped on it which instantly sent up a whole world of pain not to mention potentially wrenched a whole filling loose as an unpopped kernel tried to shatter his facial bones.

"Fuckin' stupid popcorn."

Dean blamed the clowns.

* * *

 **Okay, next week we get to meet someone from Dean's past but (you guessed it) it's not a happy reunion! As ever, please feel free to make guesses!**


	35. Family Reunion

**Welcome back to Monday everyone and this week we have that old face from Dean's past that I promised. This one has really been crying out to be done (I think...hope) so here it is! Hope you enjoy it! Warning: this is another long one!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, I'm glad you liked the trip to the circus so much! Dean is in the wringer again in this one, but at least no big cats, so, I mean, that's a plus for him, right?!**

 **Skovko, Yep, with you on that one. Circuses have a lot to answer for. We don't have any circuses with wild animals over here anymore since they were banned, but knowing it still goes on is the worst. In my mind the boys got the tigers into a beautiful sanctuary and they lived happily for the rest of their days!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thanks, it's nice to give Dean a non human enemy for once and a tiger certainly seemed to fit!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well, I figured that** _ **just**_ **facing clowns would have been too simple, so throw in a tiger to switch it up! Why not?! Lots of options of who it could be in this one, but hopefully you'll like (or dislike) who it is!**

 **Mandy, Aww, glad you liked it. I'm just finishing writing one about how close the boys are which will be coming in a couple of weeks and there's one from Seth's point of view coming up too, so hopefully those will make you smile!**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, the penis stuff was totally me coming through there. Same with loud cars. Men that need a tiger as a pet have to be compensating for** _ **something**_ **am I right? Who needs a pet tiger? If they want something deadly I'm pretty sure a tsetse fly would be cheaper to keep? (Sorry, rant over now!) More Dean one liners in this one!**

 **Derick Lindsey, I couldn't resist the New Day. I always love watching matches where Kofi is bouncing around and Dean just bitch slaps him. The rest of the idea came from there! I popped popcorn is the worst and can indeed screw up teeth. Hateful stuff!**

 **Rebel8954, Haha, no Bo in this one, but rest assured our little moron is coming back in a couple of chapters time and rest assured he will have really outdone himself in it! As for your guesses about the villain for this week...well…*walks away whistling***

 **Cheryl24, Not seen the new IT but I'm pretty sure I would have nightmares forever. Real clowns are bad enough, but mutant killing ones? No. Just no.**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Hmmm, good guess, but Kevin Owens is safely locked away...as the new person in this chapter should be. Or at least Dean thinks so…**

 **Not-that-kinda-gurl, Aww, thanks. I like to make these chapters a miss of eventful and cutesy. Got another eventful one coming up for you now. Hope you like it!**

 **So who is our mystery guest this week...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Family Reunion**

"Next one man, _go_."

Dean stabbed a fork through the pancake tower and then tore off a piece that both he _and_ his brothers knew could physically never fit into his mouth, then tried to shove the whole thing in regardless before cursing as maple syrup cascaded over his best clothes.

Damn.

Not that his best threads constituted catwalk stylings. Unless the latest trend was to buy spurious tees from over the internet or from shady looking men selling them in boxes on the street, which as a cop he should probably have closed down or bypassed. But a bargain was a bargain and he was hardly a millionaire. He had actually been pretty thrilled with the one that he was wearing. Even though he had never really known what it had meant since it was simply black with a semi-circle of bold white letters that proclaimed _be a pineapple_.

Sure, okay.

Leaning over the table to pick up a napkin from the pile the waitress had brought over the with food, Roman mopped up the gloopy trail of maple syrup and then passed it across to the sticky handed blonde to try and clean up the golden blobs on his shirt front but which mostly just worked it further into the weave. Blinking in long suffering from the opposite side of the table, Seth made a point of flapping the newspaper out and then building it tall so that they shielded the chaos.

"Okay, the next one is Timothy Well."

"Date of birth dude?" Dean threw back instantly as he continued to work the syrup further into his clothes, literally to the point that it stuck to his chest and meant that he had managed to create a hair removal strip from his breakfast and eating like he had recently been starved.

Roman reached over and then helpfully ripped it up again.

Dean exploded,

"Fuckin' son of a _bitch_."

In scientific terms he supposed it was technically possible that people three states over working with heavy machinery and wearing noise cancelling headphones had picked up on his yell, because certainly the clientele sat with them in the diner had heard every syllable. Dean petulantly palmed his chest and then tried to tune out his older brother chuckling broadly like some overgrown child.

"Gotta pull them fast babe."

"Freakin' _sadomasochist_ we got sittin' over here."

In response to the suggestion the big man playfully levered his brows up, which earned a wearily sigh from their technical man, who flapped his newspaper for a very pointed _second_ time and then continued with their game as his brown eyes scanned the text and in particular the long obituary column which he was picking random names from.

"Born in nineteen sixty one."

"Divorced two kids," Dean stuffed in some more pancake, but made sure to shovel up a way more human sized load which he carefully manoeuvred back over the table and still poured syrup everywhere, "Oh freakin' _come_ _on_."

His teammates shared a fleeting look of wry fondness.

"Here babe."

Roman passed him a second paper towel then watched with a growing smile as it was snatched from his fingers with a series of mutters that were probably best unheard but the basics of which seemed to bleed through regardless in his typical husky babble.

"Freakin' stupid _tree blood_."

"I'm gonna say he was married with no children," Roman rumbled, moving them back to the topic at hand and the bizarre little ritual they had gotten into in the mornings whereby one of them would scour the long local births and deaths, while the other two guessed things based on the information.

Morbid perhaps?

Okay, definitely yes.

But it honed certain skills sets and kept tabs on the crime world since the loss of a kingpin or the head of a gangland family was usually followed by mass carnage and power plays, which it was _their_ role to keep from wrapping up the whole city. Beyond him Seth grunted and then shook his head before flattening the newsprint our over the table, taking care not to plant it in the maple syrup pool as he stabbed his finger at the name he had been looking at,

"Nope, you're both wrong, no wife and no kids."

"M' gonna take a shot an' say the guy was an insurance broker or somethin' all kinda super _numbery_ like that," Dean put in over a new mouthful of pancakes which he was blotting on his napkin before putting to his lips and which seemed to be working out. Much to the relief of everyone.

Seth blinked towards the typeface,

"High school soccer coach."

"I meant that."

"Not exactly your morning is it babe?" Roman chuckled reaching out to prod their syrup spattered copper blonde before moving up subconsciously to knead at the tensed up shoulder because their powerhouse was nothing if not eternally hands on, "Bet you'll get the next one."

"Bet you're gonna let me, because what am I like, _three_?"

Roman shrugged,

"More like eighteen months."

"Hey man, the hell are you talkin' about? I am _totally_ a grownup."

Dean levered up some more pancake to his mouth but in his haste to prove his point he forgot to wipe the syrup off which then promptly plopped off and began to cascade over his chin. Their powerhouse helpfully wiped it off like a doting parent.

"You were saying babe?"

Dean let out a long defeated grunt,

"I give up."

Biting back a smile at the brotherly banter Seth let his focus fall back onto the paper print in the hunt for a name that he hoped would then challenge them but which were mostly little old ladies who had more than likely owned cats. Evidently _Mary_ had been a popular baby name back in the thirties based on the number that had recently passed. He kept on scanning but then stopped in a heartbeat as a bundle of letters launched out at him.

"Fuck man."

Dean blinked,

"I mean if I had the choice here I would rather fuck _lady_ but..."

"Something wrong brother?" Roman more helpfully supplied, crumpling the maple syrup tissue in his fingers and then letting them fall down onto his empty breakfast plate as he carefully steered the pancake tower over the table so that their copper blonde teammate was good and clear of the mess or on the basis that if left with the golden gloop in front of him then Dean might be tempted to try and write out his name or further test his newly invented waxing strips a little.

In response the technical man blew out a breath,

"Dean, how common is Ambrose?"

"My surname?"

"No your blood type," Seth bit back, watching as the blue eyes furrowed in bewilderment at the sudden bitchy mood that had come over the younger man,

"Dunno, I mean I was the only one in my school I think."

"How come you _think_?"

"Never went a whole bunch, or really socialized too well with others."

Roman knitted his brows in close and then leaned himself in over the breakfast plates as he sensed the unease,

"Might have to spell this one out for us."

 _Damn it, here goes_.

Hauling a breath in Seth reluctantly spun the battered newspaper round, ripping the corner of one sheet on a syrup blot but pushing the most important part of the broadsheet their way and then tapping his finger on the lines that had caught his focus and which _had_ to be bad.

Deceased.

Robert Ambrose b. 1963

Dean blinked at it for a second. Or probably _more_ than a second since honestly it was pretty impossible to tell given that time and space had peeled back around him like he had beaten the final level in some video game. It stripped back reality and lowered the volume until not only his brothers but the folk at the nearby tables became muted adults from Peanuts _wa-wa_ sounds.

He felt his blood run cold.

Robert freakin' Ambrose. Because _there_ was a name that had been silent for a while. Or eleven years to be precise and a near _lifetime_ before that. Hell he barely knew or could remember the bastard and so therefore his being gone changed literally nothing in his world.

No. _Less_ than nothing.

Because beyond the few occasions the man had shown up throughout his childhood soaked in booze and slurring his words, there had basically been no contact, or presents or cards or birthdays or chat. To the point that the man had been a virtual stranger to him and certainly not one that he had ever looked up to. At all. Dean had been more influenced by wanting _not_ to be like him.

But now he was gone huh?

"Dean man. _Hey_."

He looked back up to find his brothers staring hard at him and gradually the _wa-wa_ noises turned back into real life sounds, like someone had taken his brain out of hard pause mode and returned the world to its regular pace. Dean shook his head and his hair bounced loosely which he then used an absent had to push back into place and possibly covered it in a layer of maple syrup which on the plus side then made him _literally_ good enough to eat. In theory at least.

"Can you tell us who he is babe?"

Dean snorted wryly.

"I mean he _was_ my old man. But not so much now I guess."

"Dean. Holy shit man."

"Is there a problem?" He spread his hands out but since it had sounded harsh even to his _own_ ears, the look on his brothers' faces were not hard for him to figure because _they_ had both had stable paternal figures in their lives, that they would literally have killed or gone into battle for and so no _way_ would they understand his hatred for own pop who had basically been a non-event in his life for thirty plus years. Well, maybe Seth would but then he had always has his stepdad. He shrugged, "Lemme guess here an' say it was a bar brawl, or like a pissed off husband maybe?"

In response Seth read upside down,

"It says it was his heart."

"He _had_ one?" Dean snorted but the noise came out broken in a way his voice had no right to sound, since no way was he upset over some lone stranger who had never once wasted an emotion on him. He had cried a little when their hometown had lost the baseball and he had cried a fucking _ocean_ of tears over his girl. But his father would get nothing from him.

Not one sniffle.

"Kinda says that his funeral is happening today too," his younger brother continued in tentative tones, "Like right _now_ to be exact man, so I mean if you wanted to go along there and pay your respects to him then we could probably catch the end."

Dean reached over and stabbed the pancake remnants.

"Nope an' fuckin' nope."

"Babe…"

"Not gonna happen big man. 'Cos for me to wanna pay my _respects_ or whatever, I would _probably_ have to have some respects to pay. Which are kinda hard to find for the man who skipped out on me for like basically the whole of my damn freakin' life an' missed every birthday an' milestone an' _everythin_ ' like I was this worthless piece of crap that never mattered."

Damn the man.

Dean stabbed the fork then nearly snapped it in two pieces as it rammed through the pancakes into the porcelain below with a hideous screech sound like nails on a chalkboard and made Seth launch back like a bitchy turtle into his shell. Roman moved the plate even further from his stabbing range and then began to massage his big warm fingers through the hair.

"Well you matter to us, okay uce?"

"So you keep tellin' me."

"Not to mention Vince and Stephanie."

"Fuck," Dean grunted back, "Is this you seriously tryin' to cheer me up here l?"

"Take it or leave it babe," Roman shrugged back, but his teasing little beam helped to lighten the mood slightly or whatever the hell emotion the copper blonde had going on. Because honestly he had no clue or even a _hint_ of an insight into how he was _supposed_ to be feeling about it all. Was there even a step between basic human sadness and something he could only really vocalize as _meh_?

"Have you boys finished?"

He was still thinking it over when the waitress sauntered in with a blink of surprise at not only the maple syrup mess on the table but the stabbed and butchered stack of pancakes Roman handed across.

"You bet baby girl and it was _real_ good too."

"Oh, you're welcome."

Red painted fingernails waved back at him flirtatiously as if the woman had made the breakfasts herself but which was bullshit because they could _see_ the paunchy bellied head chef in his grease spattered overalls from the booth where they were sat and who was probably the one person in the whole of the establishment that would not have been moved by a hearty Roman smile.

Brown eyes were watching Dean.

Huh?

Seth was peering over the table lowering his head as the woman leaned in so he could keep his steady gaze burning through her the whole time regardless of whether it was over her forearm or beneath her breasts, which she was leaning seductively in towards their big man, who shifted in levels discomfort which would have _normally_ made Dean laugh.

But not today though.

He held back until she left them, then snapped,

" _Fine._ Lemme hear it man, before you go fuckin' cross eyed or some shit, because m' _guessin_ ' you got a reason for the high school teacher look like I told you a cat ate my biology homework or somethin' which I know should be a dog but…"

"I think you should go man."

"Huh?"

Dean blinked in response like his teammate meant leave the diner. Because _okay_ so he had made a mess with all the syrup but that was hardly a reason for kicking him out. Brown eyes kept on looking at him and _ohhh_. Dean got it. Because of _course_ they were still talking about his shitty old man and how his passing was supposed to be a noteworthy moment.

Dean screwed his fists up in warning,

"Leave it alone dude."

He earned himself a long suffering sigh. Which was kind of ironic really,

"No. No way man. No _way_ am I letting you skip out on this thing. Because I know right now you want to forget it and carry on god damn hating the guy – which is totally your choice, _totally_ – but I'm telling you man in ten years' time – _twenty_ even – but at some point in your life you will wish you had closed the door. Because _that_ is what I think you should do here. I'm not telling you to cry man, I'm _telling_ you to make your peace with him, which believe it or not is because I _care_ you moron. I'm not going to let you bury your head in the sand."

Dean blinked back solemnly and then began to scratch his neck line. Raking his nails in and _fuck_ it felt good.

"Fun freakin' fact here, but ostriches never bury their head in the sand man. _Like_ , that is totally made an' I mean like they're super fuckin' fast too so why would they need to? An' they kick too. I read somewhere that they could break a human head."

Roman pulled his hand back and trapped it on the table,

"Tell us what to do babe."

Well that was the million dollar question right there, because honestly as much as he hated having to say it, his littlest brother raised a frustratingly valid point, since a large part Dean in fact _did_ kind of wantto be there. If only to see the gravesite for himself and the headstone too provided somebody had bought one. More than likely _he_ would have to buy one for the asshole himself. Or not or whatever.

Eventually he blew a breath out.

"If it means you stop bitchin' at me for five freakin' minutes then _fine_ we can go. But _only_ because I wanna make sure that no good freakin' scumbag really _is_ in there, because if I know him then this shit will be some scam of his, an' he'll be sippin' a fuckin' _mai tai_ somewhere south of the border laughin' himself crazy."

"Dean, come on. I mean what is he a _mastermind_?"

But irrespective of what either of his brothers tried to tell him, their copper blonde kept up his less than generous train of thought, which lasted beyond them settling their bill up and then clambering back into and firing up the car. Seth clutched onto the obituary column like he had found a treasure map and guided them across town.

"Okay man, take a left up here."

Dean sat silently behind them on the backseat, trying and failing to keep his mind off his old man and the last time he had seen him which he could remember every second of. In fact it had been back early in his relationship with _her_ and before he had mentioned a single word about his childhood because who the hell needed or even _wanted_ to hear about that?

 _She_ had been tucked into his side trying to keep the chill off as they had stepped out of some restaurant back into the street and she had been laughing at a lame pun he had made about something when suddenly a figure had stepped in front of them.

"Hello son."

 _Holy fuck._

Dean had ground to a horrified standstill with hate and protectiveness coursing hot through his bones as the beady little eyes of his more useless parent had slowly slipped across towards the cute little blonde, who had been blinking at the newcomer in friendly confusion.

Dean had snarled at him,

"Keep walkin' old man. I got nothin' to say to you."

He had pulled his girl in closer and then clamped her to his ribcage as he had roughly brushed them past and away from the grinning man who had wiped his chin hungrily as the clueless blonde woman had quickly skittered past and which had made Dean even _more_ keen to get out of there and protect her from the blackness and shit of his family life.

"Not even gonna say hello to your father?"

"Freakin' would if I had one."

He had muttered the last part, but his girl had sure heard it even though she had kept quiet. Well, at least for long enough to get them back to her place, where he had then proceeded to try and hit and punch himself because otherwise he would probably have been smashing up her stuff.

Bastard of a man.

"Dean, hey, look at me for a moment."

He had stopped when his girl had taken his hands, instead of backing up in pure horror at his tantrum like most of the women in his past had always done and which was probably the moment he had known he _had_ to keep her and cling onto her tight for the rest of his natural life.

He had told her everything about himself from that point, in a pity party session that had pretty much gone on all night and which had bled dry a bottle of specially aged whisky that her father had given her when she had turned twenty one. Honestly he had figured she would likely run a mile from him, but instead she had moved over to kneel up in his lap and kiss him and tease his hair through her fingers.

"M' not too like, broken an' fucked up for ya cupcake?"

"Based on the evidence I'd say you were fucked up just right."

Back in the real world he swallowed a lump back, because sometimes he missed her like a stab to the heart, in a way that he knew he would never miss his father or his blood relatives or anybody beyond his brothers and his beautiful girl.

"Dean? We're here man?"

"Huh?"

He squinted through the window like he was waking from a coma or a really long sleep and was bewildered to find himself blinking at rusted railings but with a neatly trimmed lawn and white headstones beyond, some of which were leaning or had clearly been vandalized but was still pretty tidy for the neighborhood they were in and besides there was only one person shooting up on heroin, so that was a probably a selling point.

Not.

 _His_ girl was in a freaking _beautiful_ cemetery.

It had flowers and shit.

"Need us to come along babe, or should we hang back here a while?" Roman was looking in the rear view, probably trying not to be too over the top and in response the copper blonde shrugged his shoulders pretty roughly and then plucked up his leather collar as he flung open the door.

"Nah, this won't take long uce, _trust_ me."

"We'll be right here man,"

In reply he threw a grunt back towards their blinking tech man which could have been anything between a _fuck you_ and a _thanks dude_ and which was probably both but would never be expanded on as Dean slammed the door then plodded off towards the headstones with his hands shoved in his pockets and with his hoodie pulled up in way too late style teenage rebellion.

He stopped beside an old man pulling bindweed from the railings,

"Hey man is the Ambrose funeral still goin' on?"

"Finished 'bout an hour back."

"Folk still there?"

"Nope," the old man grunted trying to straighten but which clearly meant waiting for some bones to realign and which looked so painful and totally haphazard that Dean put a hand out in case a bit of him broke, like some sort of reanimated corpse man or something and which was hardly out of line based on where they were stood, "People cleared out of that one pretty sharpish. Not that they _were_ many mind."

"Yeah well that figures I guess."

"Except for the lady."

Dean blinked,

"Did you say _lady_? As in like, all kinda _ratty_ lookin' with sorta scraggly blonde hair?"

In his head he figured maybe his mom had shown up for it, because for all the poison she had spewed about his father his parents had been trapped in this bizarre push and pull, whereby no matter what had happened and often not happened between them, they were inexorably linked like moths to the same damn flame and besides which it would have freaking been _totally_ like her to know his father had punched his ticket and bounced off down to hell without having the god damn human courtesy to tell him.

Did he not even get a call?

The old man coughed,

"Nope, sorry kid. This woman was a brunette and she looked pretty buxom if you know what I mean heh? Nice looking lady too and real upset about the whole thing it seemed like. Kinda gave me the impression that she was the wife, since she was the one that paid me."

New wife huh?

Dean cleared his throat,

"Can you point me towards the grave?"

"Right at the back there, beside that group of trees down where the earth is fresh."

Dean blinked beyond the rheumatically shaking hand and then up towards a spot that was half hidden by some ash trunks but where the green lawn had been churned up to a heavy looking brown that turned his stomach briefly but which he fought back like a demon. Because he didn't care.

 _Didn't_ care.

It took a bit of time and some stumbling over gravestones and hidden plaques and whatnots, but luckily he made it over towards the treeline without much grief or general upsetting of the long dead beyond the cursing which he was still reeling off as he ground to a halt and then lifted his eyes from the heaped mound of soil to the brilliant new headstone and the engraving across the front.

 _Here lies Robert David Ambrose, beloved husband_.

Fuck.

That settled the whole wife-thing, because at some point his errant father had clearly blindsided some nice rich singleton and somehow convinced her to be shackled to his life. Probably with a bunch of promises he had never filled for her and more than likely with a string of girlfriends and hook-ups in the wings, since loyalty was not a word Robert Ambrose had been too keen on or had ever _once_ used.

Dean snorted at it,

"Huh. Figure you never _were_ much good at stickin' round bastard."

"Now is that any way to talk to me boy?"

Blue eyes blinked hard and then snapped towards the speaker so ungodly fast that Dean's neck nearly broke and with a cold weight settling in the base of his stomach, because even though it had been literally _years_ since he had heard them, he would have known the gravelly tones anywhere. Even at the _graveside_ of the man that they belonged to and who was _meant_ to be six feet under.

But nope, there he was.

Robert freakin' Ambrose was stood right in front of him, leant casually with one leather clad elbow resting on a trunk and shielding a cigarette from the billowing south westerly as he lit one end then slipped his lighter back in his pants, but all of which was completely inconsequential.

Because Robert cocksucker freakin' Ambrose was _living_.

Dean spluttered breathlessly,

"The _fuck_?"

"Hey, show some respect, because this is one of them nice and respectable religious places," Robert smirked back which then creased up his weathered face into so many lines and unpleasant wrinkles that it made him look older than his fifty six years. In terms of their features they had nothing in common. Not noses or eyes. Eh. Maybe their chins were similar though and their hair color too, even though the older of them had chosen to slick his back like he made seventies porn.

Or any porn in general. Or probably blackmail revenge tapes...

He was wearing a flash leather jacket like his son was, but in ochre with a large collared shirt underneath, with buttons unhooked so that his chest hair sprouted out of it and with a cross on a chain like he had maybe found god. Except not because the asshole had faked his own death.

Dean exploded,

"I knew it. I god damn knew it you fuckin' bastard. I _knew_ this was a scam. It freakin' had to be. I mean what was it this time huh? Drug money maybe, or some loan shark you took too much from then never paid back? Or was it the husband of the latest little bitch you were screwin' while you brand new wife was waitin' at home?" Dean threw a hand towards the headstone as he spouted to indicate the crucial _beloved husband_ line, "But lemme guess here, the new one thinks you really _are_ buried. Am I right pops?"

Robert blinked then lifted up a lazy brow,

"Maybe maybe not."

"Fuck. You cold hearted bastard," Dean shrugged, "But then I mean, I _kinda_ knew that anyway since you were never there an' because you never gave a single _crap_ about me, so this little stunt of yours here is hardly a big surprise to the kid you ignored for his whole freakin' existence."

Robert cocked his head.

Fuck.

Dean did that sometimes too, which would have to stop immediately.

"In that case why are you here son? If I was such a poor excuse for a father, then why turn up?"

"I was checkin' you were gone," Dean spat back a lot more fiercely than he had wanted because both of them knew there was more to it than that and he _hated_ the fact that he had been caught out being caring towards the memory of a man who had treated him like crap. Fuck. He felt like some sad beaten puppy crawling back to their master and that thought hardened him.

No more.

He lowered his tones into something low and infinitely more dangerous,

"Before I arrest you, m' gonna need to know why."

"I'm sorry, but for a second there I thought you said _arrest_ me," Robert shook his head like he had lint in his ears and in reply Dean let the folds of his jacket fall open to reveal the holster strapped onto his belt, then pulled free his cuffs and then let them swing,

"Hey guess what man."

"So you would really arrest your old man, huh?"

"Never had one," Dean shrugged back as he went to step closer, but basically wanting to sing in happiness about the fact. Because for once out of the two of them _he_ was the in control one and making his parent feel betrayed like _he_ had as a kid, "But m' still gonna wanna know why."

Robert snorted and then took another long inhale of nicotine.

He was eerily cool.

"I kinda crossed a few locals – some not real nice guys if you know what I mean – which made it seem more sensible to try and take the heat off and maybe go somewhere sunny where I wouldn't be killed and besides, its not like I have much left in the city to keep me here."

Dean bristled at that.

Fucker.

"New wife not workin' for ya?"

"Nah. She was sweet but I was never really in it for the long haul. I mean I only married her because her mom and pop left her some money, but then she started talking about kids and...well, I had one of those and it never much worked out for me. You know how _that_ is,"

Robert waved a loose hand then took another drag on his cigarette.

"Might have an insight," Dean shot back as he stepped over the empty grave, which it honestly would have been easier had his old man been inside it, but then not nearly as satisfying as bringing him and charging him with fraud and forgery and _whatever_ and so he carried on stomping as his father spelt out the rest.

Did criminals really have to explain freaking _everything_ like cheap hallmark movie villains?

Evidently, yep.

"You see it turns out it's pretty freaking easy to fake a suicide and especially when you pretend you were lost in a lake or the sea or like the sea or something because it makes it hard to find a body. I mean honestly this funeral was not part of my plan here, but my new widow kinda surprised me and set this whole thing up. Must be part of her whole grieving process, although fuck knows what she put in the damn coffin though. Figure the shock of losing me must have put her over the edge a bit."

He followed it up by laughing.

 _Laughing_.

Dean grit his teeth and then crossed the space between them so that they were stood nose tip to nose tip, which reminded him of how tall and freaking _bulky_ his old man was, but also how pale and haggard the booze had turned him and frankly how goddamn _pitiful_ the whole thing was.

"Great story man, now how 'bout savin' it for prison?"

He reached a hand out to seize up the wrist and twist it behind the back where he could safely slap the binds on, but was suddenly interrupted by a trampling of feet and then his name being called in familiar brotherly tones of worry. Because of _course_ they had come to check up on his ass or sensed through telepathy that something had been happening like some inbuilt _bat signal_.

But instead of bats it had his face.

 _Kapow_.

"Dean you okay man? What is this?" Seth put in tentatively as they stopped beside the grave, both of them lingering on the headstone for a second and then looking up to their teammate and the bulky stranger he was with, who seemed to be smirking. Not exactly what they had expected on lumbering from the car to make sure he was alright because his father had died and so whatever he told them, they both knew he had been feeling it.

But the arrest part was new.

Roman blinked,

"Babe?"

Dean let his eyes close for a second, because the nickname was the last thing he needed to hear. Or more accurately the last thing he needed his _old man_ to hear since it was bound to create a response in some form. Bullying too probably.

Robert snorted loudly.

Yep.

"Heh, _babe_ is it? Tell me boy is this something that a father should know? Because the last time we talked you had this cute little blonde thing looking all lovestruck and hanging off your arm and now you have some tattooed muscle man and his skinny brother."

Dean exploded,

"Don't fuckin' talk about her."

Naturally looking back on it with the beauty of hindsight, it was kind of obvious that the outburst was bound to go wrong, since losing his shit in the middle of cuffing a suspect had never been part of the lawman how-to. Especially not when the person being arrested was a man that had staged his own _suicide_ to beat the cops and so who therefore in essence was never likely to go easily. Family or otherwise.

Robert suddenly moved.

Launching a hand out he slipped Dean's gun from inside the holster in one rapid move before then flipping his offspring back and wrapping a surprisingly strong forearm around his neck line where he pulled back the hammer and pressed the barrel to Dean's head. It nuzzled a path through the copper blonde tangle that he had once upon a time had a part in helping create. But not that he cared about that in the moment as he barked out roughly,

"Alright fellers, drop your guns."

"Drop yours," Roman growled back from where he was pointing his weapon steadily, backed up by Seth who was cursing bitterly on his near side, as both of their brown eyes burned hard at their brother, "Drop it and let him go before this gets a lot worse for you, because if you hurt him then you better believe it'll be the last thing you ever do."

"Big words from a big man huh?"

"Not words. A promise."

Dean meanwhile had his head tipped back, where the forearm had forced it to lean into the meaty shoulder blade so that mostly he was sort of looking up into the trees and cursing himself for being such a fucking moron that he had let a _criminal_ steal his gun and forced his brothers into the most fucked up faceoff they had ever been involved in. Dean grit his teeth and then tried not to cough as the forearm tightened mildly and clamped his windpipe tighter.

Fuck what a mess.

Luckily Seth was there to help.

"Wait a minute man, did you call yourself his _father_? Because you're meant to be dead."

Dean rolled his eyes at that, because Sherlock Holmes didn't have _shit_ on his brother, but at least on the plus side it caught all them up as to what the hell was happening if not precisely _why_ it was happening. Robert loosened a grin then moved to fill the gaps in with a raspy little chuckle,

"How about we call this my rebirth?"

"Fucker owes money," Dean bit out over the forearm which then pulled in harder like Robert wanted him to stop, "Left his brand new wife cryin' over his god damn carcass so he could go sip _mai tais_ somewhere like I told you before. Because the guy is a piece of crap...fuck..."

"Dean, hey shut up man."

"Using your own son as a human shield is pretty low though," Roman glowered while keeping his tones low like a steely eyed predator trying to psyche out its prey. Robert Ambrose however simply kept on god damn _smiling_ as if he liked the head on challenge or got off on it somehow.

Dean twisted angrily,

"Fuckin' _shoot_ him already."

"Damn it man stop moving," Seth barked a second time as the combination of his teammate being helplessly held at gunpoint and the bizarre familial element rattled hard at his nerves. Because how the hell was he supposed to shoot a suspect that had freaking _fathered_ one of them? Biting heatedly was all he had and particularly since no way would they risk firing at Robert when the copper blonde's head was hanging right in the way. Knowing it the older man leaned in a little further and chuckled which blew foul breath through the messy tangle of hair and then sent his son scrabbling to billow it away from him like it was some type of toxic cloud.

Not _like_ though.

It was.

"Now talk to me boy and tell what _exactly_ happened to that cute little blonde girl I mentioned before. Because, I mean have to say when I first saw her with you I thought you had maybe won the lottery or some shit, because no way could a hottie like that be into _my_ kid. But I guess you fucked it up with her somehow huh?"

They all seized up.

Dean in particular looked physically broken or like a laptop that someone had tried to start too many programs on and which had given up and totally stopped working in protest. His eyes were hazy and blinking straight in front of him but not seeing his brothers or the graveyard or the trees. Roman blew a breath out like somebody had punched him.

Because when Dean hurt they _all_ hurt.

"Dead," he mumbled back.

"Come again son?" Robert chuckled broadly, clearly having totally misheard the stumbled word. Except that it was Seth who fired the response back to save Dean from repeating it.

He was in def con brother mode.

"For fuck sakes man, his girl freaking _died_ okay? It was nothing he did so damn it shut the hell up."

"Died?" Robert echoed with a blink of genuine bafflement, which for a second looked like it might stoke his human side or possibly even a tiny little hint of paternal sympathy because how in the world could it have triggered anything _else_? Except nope. Because suddenly the bastard grinned a little toothily and then roughly tousled the copper blonde hair, "Don't tell me she faked her own death too huh sunshine? I mean surely you're not _that_ bad at satisfying your girl?"

Dean snapped.

" _Bastard_."

He went to swing his fist in irrespective of the gun that was stabbed into his head because he had never been good at processing risk factors or even basic life and death stuff when he was totally enraged and which probably would have ended up pretty poorly for him had the man holding the weapon not been his real life dad. Even so though Robert looked pissed by the challenge and elbowed his son in the back of the ribs, which then had the opposite effect he had hoped for since Dean simply tried to battle free _more_.

He was going to get himself killed.

Roman bellowed,

" _Enough_."

For the most part he was shouting at Dean but everyone seemed to stall in response to it. Except for Dean who kept on muttering beneath his breath with the low sort of ramble that he used when he was pissed off, but which barely made sense since it was mostly loose words.

"Fucker scumbag stab pins in you..."

Damn it Dean.

" _Listen_ ," Roman put in over the threatening in even tones that he _hoped_ might manage to drown things out, "How about we all try and compromise before one of us regrets something, because right now man all we want our brother and nothing else. So if you let him go without so much as a _scratch_ on him, then I figure we could maybe give you a thirty second head start."

Robert laughed,

"Make it five minutes and we'll talk moose."

Dean was burning blue eyes hotly through the powerhouse in a mixture of embarrassment, frustration and ire and none of which frankly had a damn place in being there. Roman looked to Seth like they were having a conversation before the technical man nodded and then took the reins.

"Ninety seconds."

"Four minutes," Robert countered boldly,

"Fine. But toss the piece when you run, since you stole it in the first place."

Robert blinked for a moment and then threw his eyes up like he was giving it real thought before shrugging his shoulders and grinning back widely like he had tricked them into buying a second hand truck instead of having bartered for the life of his child.

Dean was right.

He really _was_ a scumbag after all.

"In that case fellers we have ourselves a deal here but first I'm gonna need you to put away the guns. Kinda makes me nervous to think they might be on me as I'm trying to go about with my side of the bargain here. Not really in my nature to trust the pigs you know boys?"

"Maybe try _not_ bein' a criminal then?"

Dean received a cuff to the head for his trouble, which risked tipping the bubbling tension over again and made him wince. In response to it Roman held up his hands and then let his firearm move reluctantly from the kill zone in a non-threatening manner as he followed through on the plan. Beside him Seth grumbled and waited for a second before copying with less grace.

"For christ sakes man _fine_."

"Good. uh huh."

Robert watched the weapons fall away from him but then paused for a second clearly not too sure what happened next and flexing on the balls of his toes like he was prepping them for the hellish turn of pace he would have to put on if he hoped to clear the graveyard and make it to his vehicle not to mention the _border_ without being hauled in.

Dean blinked.

 _Fuck_.

Because for a horribly long moment nobody moved or even seemed to breathe as they waited for a hint of movement from their bad guy. But then suddenly there was a noise back over by the gates. Nothing spectacular like the hum of a thousand sirens or a stampede of rampaging buffalo coming their way, because in reality it was only the groundskeeper firing up the lawnmower.

But that was enough. Or at least to Robert it was.

Especially because to the man that was holding the hostage it may as well have been a whole S.W.A.T team heading in and so to that end without warning he suddenly threw Dean forwards, but through the heaped up earth which the copper blonde stumbled on and would have probably then fallen face first _into_ had the bigger of his brothers not moved in to make the save.

"Oof – ,"

"Whoa easy uce."

He felt biceps wrap round him and then thudded into the muscles of a familiar set of ribs but he had been moving so hard that not even their powerhouse could stop him and so instead the pair of them tumbled back in a knot of limbs and then hit the ground with Roman on the bottom and Dean on top blasting the air from his lungs as their wheelman inadvertently became a springy human mattress or that thing that people evacuated planes from.

More hands fell on him.

"Dean, hey, are you alright man? Are _both_ of you okay?"

Naturally the hands belonged to Seth, who promptly began to bark and bitch way too loudly as he tried his best to pull them back onto their feet, or at least into something that sort of half resembled sitting. Dean pushed up first then Roman followed wincing at some kind of a bruise to the ribs or else possibly his ego for having for having gone over. Hands moved regardless though to tousle through the hair line in a subtle check for injury.

"Babe, are you hurt?"

"Nope, but I _am_ kinda fuckin' pissed though, so can we go get that bastard?"

Leaning over them both Seth put a hand out and helped Dean back upright which he topped off with a super hearty slap to the back, that was probably harder than he needed to have made it but which the copper blonde luckily seemed not to mind, or else had grown used to over their brotherhood. Reaching back over he pulled Roman up as well and then handed him the gun that had been lost in the falling before scooping up the third which had been thrown by their crook in homage to their agreement which kind of surprised him.

"Come on, we're wasting time here."

Roman shook his head,

"No. Four minute head start. We gave our word brother."

"Oh come on, are you freakin' serious with that shit?" Dean shot back, "I mean the bastard could be halfway to Mexico by this point an' we're gonna sit back an' let that happen? Because honestly man, right now all I want is to punch his freakin' face in an' m' a be _real_ upset if I miss my chance. Plus I was bein' serious 'bout usin' some pins too, or maybe like _thumb tacks_."

Roman snorted,

"Easy uce."

"Ninety seconds left man," Seth barked sharply, from his position beside them where he was staring at his watch and literally counting through every last second like the time keeper in some sort of international sport. He paused long enough between the pulses however to look up steadily towards their fractious copper blonde, who was pacing the ground like a nervy first time father waiting to be told that his wife had given birth, "You sure you're okay man?"

"Except for my family bein' scumbags?"

"Not talking about us, huh?"

"What?" Dean frowned and then blinked back not following the thread for a second but then getting it completely. Roman winked in return and Seth blew out a laugh which was nasally and gunfire-like and pretty freaking grating but was his brother's.

His _real_ family.

Because blood meant shit in the general scheme of things, since shared DNA was not the same as _being there_ and having the backs of the people you cared for and propping them up through the good times and the bad. Not to mention taking on criminal bastard fathers and saving his own hopeless ass throughout the years.

Dean grinned,

"I mean who else would I be talkin' 'bout?"

"Real cute man," Seth retorted rolling his eyes before freezing as they all heard the sound of an engine which seemed to have a familiar roar. At the same time Seth's buzzer went off on his wristwatch to let him know the hastily typed in four minute time was up, not that any of them much seemed to notice as the tech man winced slightly, "Dean? Can your old man hotwire a car?"

Copper blonde hair nodded back in hesitation,

"Pretty sure, yep."

Oh shit.

They launched off at once, vaulting over graves and banks and more bindweed and then blitzing past the groundskeeper who was throwing up grass and creating a veritable hail of lawn confetti through which they could only stand and watch Roman's car being driven off and then spinning round the corner with a screeching of tires and a _wave_ from the window.

Jackass.

In response to the carjacking Seth got on his cell phone and instantly started calling an APB out on the thing, while Roman continued to puff down the road breathlessly like maybe he could catch up to his beloved SUV. Dean meanwhile stood and simply watched in bewilderment, with his head kind of spinning and fading in and out but which was broken by the groundskeeper shutting off the mower and then blundering over with a frown,

"Who was that? Driving like the very hounds of hell were chasing after him. Folk need to be more careful you know."

Dean blinked briefly and then looked up with a snort of bitterness and weariness and grief all up rolled into one, before turning and then stepping down off the kerbside to join his brothers.

His _blood_ brothers.

"Who him? That was nobody man."

* * *

 **So originally I was going to wrap this story up sort of more definitively and then I realised I kind of liked the open end, because maybe Robert would be a good character to bring back sometime. Maybe...maybe maybe? So anyway, yep, he's a free man. See you later dude.**

 **Next week the boys try to find Dean a new friend with unexpected results…(and I go back to writing less overly wordy, rambling stories…)**


	36. Here Kitty Kitty

**Okay, so I will preface this by saying that I am a dog lover through and through. However, back when I wrote the duckling oneshot, someone mentioned a Dean story with a cat and for whatever reason, this happened. Nice fluffy story this week (literally!)**

 **Rebel8954, Yep, no Dean AU I write will ever have a loving father (biologically speaking at least, since there's always Papa Reigns). Yeah, I'm on the same wavelength about when/if Robert comes back. I'm thinking they will have to work together on something etc. Lots of tension and friction and all that good stuff!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, I like to see Dean's dad in this series as one of (if not the main) reason that Dean became a cop. He wants to be nothing like his old man at all...for obvious reasons! I have a few ideas for the return of Robert bouncing around, but either in a multi chapter short or a full length story…**

 **Cheryl24, Thanks, I'm glad you liked that last one! People have been asking me to do something with Dean's family/past for a while and I couldn't resist the idea of crappy Daddy Ambrose! Good guess about the blind date in this one, but no...although maybe in a way it's a little like that? With a twist though!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you!**

 **Mandy, Aww, sorry about the personal standpoint on the last one. Families. Can't live with them, can't live without them. Glad you're feeling better though. Feeling unproductive is the worst, I go by the motto 'something every day' even if it's not a lot/good. Glad I gave you the real cop vibes in the last one...this one is more our boys being our boys!**

 **Womenwrestling010, Aww, thank you very much. I hope you like this instalment too, even this is more cute than dramatic (I hope)!**

 **Skovko, Yup, this AU's Daddy Ambrose is just another reason why Dean needs Seth and Roman so much and why he sees them as his real family. Probably also why he has such a weird but fatherly bond with Vince too, because his own pop was a disaster zone!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Yeah, I kind of felt like Dean's dad has to come back. Like a bad penny! With regards Dean's girl, I'm not really sure if she fits in this world in a living sense. I like to think she's more effective as a sort of semi mystical, flashback memory figure. Like, we see her as Dean saw her more than as she really was perhaps? I kind of see her as a combination of Renee and Lauren in my Lauren stories though, or she would be basically like that if that helps?**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, the game they played at the beginning was basically just to give them something to do in a diner so I could have Dean throwing food down his front like a baby and also so they could stumble on Robert's obituary. My mum used to go through the obituaries each week when she was a community nurse too to see if she knew anyone because she nursed a lot of elderly people. Seemed similar (sort of!)**

 **Not-that-kinda-gurl, Yep, that last one was a bit of a heartbreaker. Got another of those coming up in a few weeks too, but interspersed with fluff and drama and fun (I hope!)**

 **New member of the team coming up...**

* * *

 **Here Kitty Kitty**

The kennels were pretty much overflowing with pooches. Big ones, black ones, brown ones and white ones. Ones that were quiet and a bunch that would _not_ shut up. There were old ones, happy ones, little puppy dog ones and grumpy ones, to the point that Dean could feel his head _spinning_ with woofs and not mention with Seth and Roman who were stood in the shelter with him, being no help whatsoever.

"Hey come and check out this one man."

Blinking up from a bulldog that was slumped in one corner looking every inch like some sort of middle aged blackout drunk, Dean found Seth poking a finger through some meshing and tickling what _appeared_ to be the lovechild of a rat and potentially a snow white colored, living toilet brush.

Dean wrinkled his nose in response to it,

"The fuck is _that_?"

"It's a Chipoo man."

"A _what_?"

Seth rolled his eyes wearily, as if the breed of the tiny little beast yipping in front of them — because yeah, nothing said _please take me home_ quite like that — should have been obvious to everyone around him. Or at the very least to his brother.

"A Chihuahua poodle mix. See? Because first you got the curly style coat of the poodle which is good because it doesn't really shed a whole lot and you also got the brains, because poodles are smart dude and then from the _Chihuahua_ you get…"

"A glorified rat?"

Seth narrowed brown eyes at him,

"I was _going_ to say loyalty and a lack of complex health issues, but go ahead Dean, laugh it up. Because for your information I was against this in the first place. _You_ were the one that begged me to come help because _you_ think it's a good idea to get a freaking puppy even though we _all_ know you won't have time to take care of one. Not with the hours we work and…"

Dean put his hands over his earlobes and blew a husky groan out,

"Ugh, alright alright. Geez man, m' sorry I made fun of the creepy rat dog. Now please oh _pissy_ oracle tell me more about their brain power and their fluffy coats an' shit."

Seth huffed,

"No, screw you Dean."

Great.

Rolling his eyes Dean turned back into the corridor, which was literally a long row of identical wire doors and then landed on a large tattooed figure stood adrift from them, possibly pretending he had no clue who they were and peering with intensity into a kennel. Dean yelled at him,

"Hey uce, our baby brother is bein' a brat. Says he won't tell me 'bout rat poos or somethin'."

Seth rolled his eyes again.

" _Chipoos_ man."

"Yeah _that_. Seth won't tell me 'bout the Chipoo things. Roman?"

Perhaps he really _was_ trying to ignore them after all, considering that their powerhouse stayed hunkered down before the kennel instead of stepping in to break the bickering up, which was pretty much his role in their quirky family grouping. Besides being their resident muscle and an all round badass of course. Exchanging a look, Dean and Seth crossed in towards him which thankfully meant leaving the chipoo behind. Because as open as Dean was to any shape, size or description, he drew the line at having to walk a small white loofa on a leash and so was therefore in the market for something more…

Manly?

Although luckily it seemed as though Roman agreed, based on the way he then proudly waved them over like a kid in toy store.

"Hey uce, look at this."

"D' ya find me a dog over here dude?" Dean chirped brightly as he sauntered his way over, expecting something medium sized and possibly floppy eared, like the dog from out of _Up_ perhaps or like, _Homeward_ _Bound_ or something.

Except…

"Oh holy fuck."

Roman had found him a freaking _horse_.

No really. There was a god damn _pony_ staring back at him through the mesh, looking more hang dog than a literal hang dog and with more skin and jowls than any one pooch could need. So much so the excess flab was pulling down its eyelids and there was also a hunk of drool hanging off the slobbering jaws. But okay, there _was_ something pretty cool about it, because maybe he could ride it around the streets like a steed or use it to frighten bad guys into surrendering. It could be his police dog or…

"This is Daisy."

He blinked.

"What?"

Roman was still hunkered low down beside her, but he was tapping on the papers beside the cage door as he did and sure enough there it was written in black and white indelible. Her name was freaking _Daisy_.

He threw his hands up,

"Oh come on, I mean how am I meant to scare the bad guys yellin' Daisy? I need a _Killer_ or a _Brutus_ or a _Cujo_ here you know?"

"Bad guys?"

"Uh…no?"

Dean scratched his head awkwardly as Seth glared up from his bent position on the floor, since he too had lowered to give Daisy a scritching and okay, barring the name thing she was admittedly pretty cute. If the three hundred pound lovechild between a hippo and a canine could ever technically be really classed as _cute_.

"Hold up man, I thought you were here for a companion, so what the hell are you talking about chasing down bad guys for?"

Dean shrugged,

"I dunno, but you can never be too careful."

"Plus he does get himself kidnapped a hell of a lot," Roman put in helpfully as he clambered back upright and then chuckled at the tongue childishly poking back his way, "So maybe a big old guard dog is the perfect way to go here?"

"And he is supposed to fit _that_ in his apartment exactly _how_?" Seth responded hotly, throwing a hand towards Daisy who they all looked at in acknowledgement.

Oh.

Dean blinked,

"Okay, so I mean, like, maybe somethin' smaller then?"

"Like a chi…"

He put a finger up in brisk warning.

"Nope."

"So then why don't you go and pick out a dog that _you_ like babe?" Roman offered sensibly.

But then that was the point. Dean had no clue what kind of animal he wanted and had only plumped for dogs because they seemed the perfect choice — besides all the pooping and his not having a real backyard bit — and besides which his girl had freaking _loved_ dogs and since it was _her_ that he was trying to fill the void of, it had to be something cuddly and cute. Hence the whole reason he had dismissed the idea of gerbils, not to mention geckos, parakeets and tropical fish as well. Because he needed a pet that he could chill with on the sofa and that could sleep on his bed.

It freaking _had_ to be a pooch.

But the more and more he wandered up and down the kennels, the more confused and kind of _pent up_ he got. Because it suddenly seemed like a freaking huge decision and he was paranoid about picking the wrong _kind_ of dog.

Or any dog really.

Because how could they replace her and how could any living thing fill in that gap?

Fuck.

There was a door at the end of the lengthy kennel block which led out towards the paddocks and where the farmyard animals were and suddenly needing to grab a himself a breather, Dean stepped through it and back out into the early summer sun, before leaning back hard against the concrete of the building and then tipping his head up.

"I mean, you think m' crazy for doin' this right?" a beam of sunlight hit his face and he snorted, "Oh I get it. I bet you're laughin' real hard at me up there, ain't that right beautiful?"

"Meow."

"The fuck?" Dean glanced down again and was surprised to see a large tabby cat peering back up, with it's head tipped on one side like it thought he was mad or something. Which maybe he _was_ since he was stood alone outside, freaking out about being at an animal shelter, staring up into the clouds and god damn _talking_ to himself.

Except not himself really.

"Shoo."

He poked it with a boot tip and in response it blinked and then promptly lay down before rolling itself in a warm patch of sunlight the way that _he_ did in his bedsheets when he was super freaking tired. In terms of its size it was a pretty unusually big cat and seriously, were their steroids in the water or some shit? Because first the giant horse dog and now a hulking kitty? Had they stumbled on a top secret government testing lab?

It was long haired, in fact almost too long haired to be honest, with tiny little black tufts on the tips of its ears and with big pale eyes that stared back at him unblinking, which was totally reassuring and comforting.

Not.

Clearing his throat and trying to ignore it — since clearly trying to shoo it was no freaking good — he got back to the business that the unwanted feline had so rudely interrupted.

 _Ahem_.

Now where was he again?

Oh, right.

"So if you could like, give me a sign or somethin' beautiful," he offered out hopefully peering back up at the sky, "Or like, point to right freakin' dog here or somethin' then….hey, come on dude, will you freakin' knock it off?"

Hulk cat was rubbing around his legs like a cheap date, having at some point peeled itself back up out of the sun and presumably with the sole purpose of making him uncomfortable. Because seriously, the thing would _not_ leave him alone. Frowning, Dean took an awkward sidestep away from it.

Except it followed him.

"Meow."

"Look man," he sighed, "M' here to get a freakin' pet _dog_ alright dude? M' not really a cat kinda person. Never was. Too many claws an' eatin' birds an' that shit you know? So how about goin' an' makin' eyes at someone else?"

He went to step away again and _of course_ the cat followed — which a teeny tiny part of him kind of weirdly admired — but was stopped by the sound of someone nearby gasping, which put his long time police senses of sudden red alert, since noises like that were often followed by gunshots or screaming or crying…

"Meow."

Or, evidently, a huge and impossible freaking cat.

"Oh my, is that Lucifer?"

"Huh?"

Dean blinked up in bewilderment and then right into the face of a pretty young girl, who had been in the process of leading a horse out from the stable block but who had pretty much stopped dead on seeing the cat, which had taken up position near enough on his boot tip and was licking a paw without a care in the word. The girl beamed,

"Wow, you must be honored, Lucifer never goes up to total strangers, in fact she has a reputation for being kind of mean."

Dean frowned,

"Hold up, are you talkin' about _this_ thing?"

Between them they both looked down towards the puss, which was blinking back up at them like a cherub or something and making a deep and contented sounding purring sound.

The pretty blonde nodded,

"She's as mean as they come alright, everyone here has had a whack or two from her. I mean, she even bit a visitor once and they were _that_ close to putting her to sleep over the whole thing," she held up her thumb and finger then brought them together to show how dire the situation clearly was and absently Dean lowered down into a hunker and then started to pet through the long tabby fur, "They gave up all hope of rehoming her after _that_ one and so I guess she just sort of lives here at the shelter now."

Dean blinked.

Huh.

"So lemme get this straight here. What you're sayin' is that people won't take a chance on this lil' gal because she's not one of those floozy cats that loves everyone? An' because she likes to kinda _choose_ who her friends are instead of pimpin' herself out?"

The shelter worked paused,

"Um…"

"Because for your information," Dean offered back in outrage, "All you need is one person, or, maybe like, _two_ to turn a grumpy jackass around an' make 'em better, an' I should know too because I freakin' _was_ one."

"Meow."

The demon kitty nuzzled his hand in confirmation and for a second it was like Dean was looking at himself. Or, okay, so not exactly because he wasn't a stray cat and nor had he bitten anyone. Recently. But other than that they were pretty well suited and _especially_ when it came to the not liking people stuff. Or not liking _some_ people. Because others were okay he guessed and speaking of which...

"Hey Roman," a voice called out, sharp and nasally recognizable immediately, "I found him. Geez man, what are you doing out here? Me and the big guy thought you had vanished and, hey is that a cat?"

"Pfft."

Lucifer arched up her back and so Dean tickled her a little bit harder beneath the chin fluff and then scolded her kind of like a parent with a child. Or else like a man with a cat. Which he wasn't. Because that was the problem. He didn't have any pets.

"Hey, easy dude. This is Seth. We like Seth. I mean, we didn't for a while. In fact we kinda hated him to tell the truth. But it's totally good now."

His younger brother frowned at him,

"Dean, what…"

Although thankfully the confusion was broken up by Roman who emerged from the kennel block at a trotting pace and then blew a breath out in evident relief, like he actually been _worrying_ about the copper blonde or something. Which was totally unnecessary. Or okay, maybe not, since his earlier point about Dean getting kidnapped and stalked and beaten up had pretty much been on the nose. He grinned and in response Lucifer made her little purr noise. Because who didn't love Roman?

"You okay out here babe? Been making a new friend, huh?"

Dean grinned,

"Uce, this is Lucifer. Lucifer, this is the big dog, but like, don't worry or anything, it's just a nickname he has or whatever, because really he's more like a big freakin' _teddy bear_. Except, maybe don't tell him I told you about that part."

"Lucifer, huh?"

Roman crouched down to scritch her and in response the choosy tabby gave his hand a little sniff and then graciously allowed him to tickle along her jawline. Although she straight up tried to take a literal swipe from out of Seth.

"Pfft."

"Oh come on. She likes everyone _but_ me?"

Dean shrugged,

"Nah, she kinda hates everyone, she like, freakin' _bit_ someone or somethin' this one time, an' so now they think she won't ever get a home an' shit. I guess they gave up on her or somethin' like that."

"Can't think why man," Seth offered back deadpan, rubbing at the claw marks on the back of his knuckles and then glaring as Lucifer started purring like a nun and rubbing herself backwards and forwards against Dean lovingly, but eyeballing the tech man the whole damn time.

Roman blew a breath out,

"I mean hey, sure she's nice uce, but she's not exactly that big loveable companion dog you came here for. So I guess what I'm saying is are you sure a cat's the answer?"

Dean gaped,

"Hold on. You seriously think I wanna _take_ her?"

Roman shrugged,

"Don't you?"

" _No_."

"Are you sure about that babe? Because it looks to me like she's taken kind of a real shine to you."

Between them they all turned to watch the grouchy feline, who had slithered back off again to roll in the sun, but who promptly trotted back to rub her face over his kneecap and to bump against his hand with her little wet nose. She was fiery and changeable and moody and he liked that. But god damn it he was categorically _not_ a cat man and nor was he a cross stitching little old lady and so therefore he never would _be_ a cat man.

He went to shake his head no, but then stopped in a heartbeat as a break in the clouds lit her up in holy light as she sat and licked her little white tipped paws super daintily. Besides what, had he not asked his girl for a sign?

He looked up,

"Uh beautiful? You do realize this thing is a _cat_ , right? Like a proper freakin' cat with like claws an' that shit, which is totally gonna mess up that knitted comforter you bought us?"

In response the sun seemed to shine a little harder. Or maybe not, but for a second it sure _looked_ like it did and so shrugging his shoulders Dean turned back towards the blonde girl, who was busy leading a horse on a rope around in loops and so in hindsight then he could totally have picked a _worse_ pet.

Seth frowned at him,

"Dean?"

But he had made up his mind. Or well, his _girl_ had made it up for him anyway and she had always known best. After all, she'd picked _him_. He called across the fencing.

"Uh, so I kinda wanna take the cat home, but is there some kinda form I gotta fill out, or do I just take her or..." he tapered off awkwardly, thumbing back over his shoulder at the puss and then watching as the girl stopped so suddenly in front of him that the horse she was leading bumped into her back. Blinking in bewilderment she fumbled her hat up from its knocked forward position.

"You want Lucifer?"

Dean nodded,

"Yeah. Because I know she's not a dog, but see I work real long hours an' a dog might get lonely or like, pee on the floor so…"

"I'll get you a basket."

The girl took off running, which frankly Dean took to be a pretty bad sign. Or perhaps she was just keen when it came to rehoming things. Because, after all, that _was_ her primarily role. Even so though, he turned back to his brothers and then pointed in her direction.

"Should I be worried 'bout that? Because like, she took off real fast like she thought I might change my mind an' stuff. I mean, did I just adopt freakin' _Hitler_ out here?"

Seth raised a brow,

"Dean they named her freaking _Lucifer_ , so what do _you_ think man?"

"Meow."

Dean glanced back down and then narrowed his eyes towards the purring little critter that was winding like some sort of Chinese puzzle around his legs. The thing was, Dean had never considered himself a tactile person. Not in the way that his girl had been at least, because _she_ had been willing to fling her arms around anyone or to snuggle up into him last thing at night and that, right there was what he missed more than anything.

Bending down he plucked the cat up underneath the furry armpits then let it dangle in front of him.

"Meow."

"Okay dude look, you an' me need to make some like, ground rules. Because first of all ya gotta promise not to go scratchin' my freakin' stuff. An' _second_ of all no bringin' in baby birds an' all that shit. Oh, an' no more hissin' at Seth either you hear? Because I told you before, he's one of the good guys. So what do you say, do we have a freakin' deal?"

"Meow."

Dean took that as a feline affirmative,

"Good."

In the distance he could see the pretty blonde woman who had gone to get the pet carrier hurrying back, followed by what looked like an army of shelter workers, who had clearly come to see if she was telling them the truth.

"Still not too late to go back and get that Chipoo," Seth offered teasingly, giving the tabby a tentative scratch and then whipping his hand back like the thing was made of saw tips. In response to him Lucifer flicked her tail in silent warning, but held herself back from sinking her teeth into his hand, or from painting bright red bloody claw tracks across his knuckles and so Dean liked to think of it as progress of sorts.

Roman chuckled,

"Or how about that big scary looking guard dog, so I can maybe stop worrying about your crazy ass for once?"

"Hey, my ass is not crazy."

"Sure it's not uce."

Frowning in outrage at the slight on his character, Dean stepped backwards and then fell over a bucket of food. Or _nearly_ fell anyway since he styled it out perfectly by landing in a one handed slump against the wall. Roman and Seth exchanged a look of long suffering and then grinned as Dean scrambled back up and cleared his throat.

 _Ahem_.

"Nah, I think I'll just stick with my cat uce. Because I figure she's kinda like a little guard dog too, but one that's all freakin' hissy an' scratchy."

Seth rubbed his knuckles super bitterly,

"She sure is."

"So then babe," Roman smiled, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder and then giving it a big broad brotherly squeeze, "I guess that means this little girl is now an Ambrose."

Dean nodded,

"Yep, but m' kinda thinkin' 'bout changin' her name."

"Really man?" Seth frowned, "But I thought you wanted a Killer, or a Brutus or something mean sounding like that and Lucifer does _sound_ pretty freaking cool dude."

Dean shrugged,

"I know, but I think she needs a new start an' a name is like, pretty freakin' important."

"So then what _are_ you gonna call her babe?" Roman rumbled out. Beyond them the incoming horde of shelter workers had cleared the kennel block and were rounding the bend, clearly wanting to see who was taking home their devil cat. But Dean barely saw them. He was thinking way too hard. Cradling the cat in his arms a little higher, he glanced up to the clouds like he was running his name choice through and was rewarded with a beam of light breaking through the cover and lighting them up.

She liked it.

"M' gonna call her Hope."

* * *

 **Dean has a cat! I figured the poor guy needed some sort of companionship at home and also, this is a good step for him in terms of handling his grief and beginning to move on. Hope will get occasional mentions from now on too.**

 **Next week there is a cat burglar on the loose and due to unforeseen circumstances, Dean has to call in a backup crew. He is not happy, but then who doesn't love a grouchy grumbly Dean?!**


	37. The Empress Of Tomorrow

**Okay folks, so I guess tonight on RAW we'll figure out a bit more about the Dean situation…or not…or whatever. Who really knows? But the good news is I have another Shield one shot, because this is one world that Dean is definitely not leaving!**

 **Rebel8954, Ha I know I was mean to Seth there, but I just liked the idea of the cat swiping at him. What can I say?! I imagine Stephanie and Hope would eyeball each other, have a silent conversation and come to the understanding that they are basically the same entity. They would definitely have mutual respect!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you!**

 **Minnie1015, I know, cuteness abounds! You know me, I'm a dog gal too, but as much as I wanted him to, I figured that it would be irresponsible for Dean to adopt a dog when he's barely ever home. So a grouchy cat it is then! There will be more of Hope in later stories too. She's a fully-fledged new character!**

 **Mandy, Aww glad you liked it. I felt like it was about time that Dean had a bit of company in the apartment, plus it shows he's getting over his grief (sort of in teeny tiny little baby steps) and of course his girl had a hand in it all. Glad you're feeling a little bit better and don't worry about the bad days, gradually there will be less and less of those.**

 **Cheryl24, Well I figured Dean needed a cute chapter after the whole show down with his dad and nearly getting eaten by a tiger and everything. What better way than cuddles with a kitty? Also, Hope will return in the future too!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, You are very welcome, even though I'm a dog lover, I really liked writing Dean with Hope…so much so that there's another story with the two of them coming up in the not too distant future. Also, I couldn't resist her not liking Seth, seems like it would be his luck!**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Poor Dean was long overdue some company at home, so he had to have a cat really. It was a story begging to be told! As for the backup he calls in on this chapter, well, you'll just have to read and find out (hope you like it!)**

 **Not-that-kinda-gurl, Sometimes I just have a yen to write a super cute fluffy chapter and this was it. Cats and Deans…nothing cuter! As for Roman's daughter, I'm actually writing another oneshot with her in it now, so look out for that in a couple of weeks!**

 **Skovko, Animals are the best, even though my dog loves everyone and never stops! He will only curl up next to me though and pass out asleep so that's pretty special. Dean definitely needed some of that, although Hope (who will appear again) is going to continue to be a handful, but, I mean, it's Dean so why would it go smooth?!**

 **Debwood-1999, Yep, Dean now has a snuggle buddy…even if she can be a little bit mean at times! Plus we know real life Dean loves animals and so do I so I just had to write it down. Hope will be back in various stories so look out for our brand new addition to this little AU world!**

 **By the way this might be one of my favourites…**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: The Empress Of Tomorrow**

The museum was pretty much filled to the freaking _rafters_ with well-dressed rich people.

Or not the rafters perhaps, because it didn't have any of those. Instead it had a great big domed crystal glass skylight and a plasterwork ceiling that looked like a wedding cake and which then flowed down into the tall marble columns and the arches and staircases that made the building's structure up.

Dean clarified his point.

The museum was filled to the _skylight_ with well-dressed rich people. And also him. Not so rich, but well-dressed at least which was probably the main thing although...

 _Newsflash._ Dean Ambrose fucking _hated_ bow ties.

As a server passed by with a tray of champagne flutes — which were hardly much better but alcoholic if nothing else — Dean swapped his empty for another topped up one and then tapped the hidden mike in his buttonhole.

His _buttonhole._

"Hey, are two there or did you go out for freakin' caviar? Because m' not exactly hearin' a whole lot right now an' I need some pointers here. Like, who do I talk to an' what do I say to 'em, an' that kinda shit."

Because frankly when it came to infiltrating drug gangs and mob groups, or killers and organ traffickers and their ilk, Dean needed little to no help integrating. But stood in the middle of the fucking _glitterati_ chatting about country clubs and paintings and crap, he was about as clued in as a nun in a brothel and he damn well _felt_ like it too.

He tapped the mike again,

" _Hey_."

God damn it.

How in the hell had he even ended up there? Well, okay, he knew _that_ part. Because it was his job. But going in blind had never been part of the agreement. Although relatively speaking he had been in _worse_ scrapes and remembering that he threw his champagne back wholesale and then stepped towards a group who were looking at a…

 _Thing_.

Dean blinked. What was that? Was that a freaking _portrait_? Because it looked like the artist had seizured mid stroke and yet there it was. Hung up in the museum. Being _cooed_ over.

"I agree," a man offered as he trampled in closer and for no particular reason Dean decided to call him Charles, "This piece is actually one of his better received works. Painted in the last few days of his life and an absolutely beautiful portrait."

Dean snorted. _Loudly_ which was probably a mistake since a woman who was practically _dripping_ with pearls beside him turned in curiosity and then a noticeable measure of lust. Great. Just what he needed.

"So I'm guessing you're not a such a big fan of The Night of Champions?"

Dean frowned at her,

"The what?"

"The _painting_ ," she blinked back, looking confused, since why the hell would he even be there if he wasn't an uber rich artsy fartsy type and so to that end Dean cleared his throat and then tried to sound clever. Which _would_ have been freaking easier if his earpiece worked okay. He scratched at his neck and then decided it looked too _street dog_ so offered up a cavalier shrug instead,

"Its _okay_ , but I prefer like, his earlier, uh, you know _art stuff_."

"Oh, which one do you like?"

"Um..."

One by one all of the snooty eyes spun back to him and he swallowed and then tried to think of something erudite to say. He might have even managed it too — or well, _maybe_ — except that suddenly his earpiece screamed back into life. No really. It freaking _screamed_. In a high pitch god damn screech noise which nearly blew out his eardrums and then seriously loosened his tongue which was the worst part. At least for everyone else there as he bellowed a word.

"Fuck."

Holy crap he could have heard a pin drop. Well, except for the fact that had recently gone deaf. As everyone blinked there was a voice across the earpiece. Gruff and confused sounding.

" _Ambrose, are you there? God damn it Steph, I can't hear a thing through these. Ambrose. Dean are you there son_?"

It was Vince.

Their technologically challenged freaking mayor, who was sat outside in their rickety surveillance van and who was _meant_ to be feeding him art history factoids. But _instead_ was evidently bickering with his daughter and trying to freaking _kill_ their city's undercover man.

Jesus freaking Christ.

Dean missed Seth and Roman. But his brothers were both bundled up in their beds, running high fevers and sneezing and coughing which meant that he had been forced into calling backup in and which, to be honest he was already regretting.

" _Ambrose are you there son? Pa. This damn thing is broken. What does this red light over here mean? Ambrose? Ambrose_?"

Geez.

" _Press the green button dad_."

Fighting to ignore the god damn _McMaddams_ family and the possible line of blood trickling out of his ear, Dean offered a grin towards the gaping crowd in front of him and then gestured towards the painting with his empty champagne glass.

"Uh, sorry 'bout that, but like, I just freakin' _got_ it an' I uh, I guess in the emotion I got carried away. Um, think m' just gonna go an' you know, like, think about it. Uh, over here."

Smooth.

They watched him haul ass away and then possibly even saw him leave his glass on a statue, except luckily by that point he had begun to not care. Damn stupid diamond. Because that was the problem. The museum was unveiling a newly purchased cut gem at the exact same freaking time that Suplex City was experiencing a wave of cat burglaries from a shadowy thief, who had managed to completely outfox the authorities and who called herself The Empress. Or the _jackass_ according to Dean, since he blamed her entirely for the whole situation.

Meanwhile Vince was still rumbling at him,

" _Ambrose_?"

"Hold on," Dean snapped back before sliding in behind a pillar beside a statue and an Ancient Egyptian casket of some sort, "Okay m' here. I mean, m' actually freakin' _deaf_ now but m' here or whatever. You got any updates?"

It was Steph who replied, which was probably a good thing since her pain in the ass father would be freaking _blacklisted_ from there on in.

Stupid Vince.

" _Nothing that we can see out on the perimeter and our officers are reporting that all the entrances are clear, so if she is even thinking of targeting the diamond then she's not inside the building. But I'm still not sure she'll come. On the opening night? Even for her that seems risky_."

Dean shook his head,

"Oh she'll be here alright. This is her chance to show the world how damn good she is. Takin' that diamond in front of a big crowd _an'_ all the security this place has laid on? Nah, she's comin'."

" _How's it looking in there_?"

"Pretentious."

Dean meant that in the literal sense too, since there was an elderly woman standing across from him wearing actual freaking fur and peering through theatre glasses at a naked marble statues and in particular its smooth but small looking dick. Back on the line he heard the boss roll her eyes at him.

Probably.

" _I meant how is the operation looking in there? But it's nice to know that you're enjoying the finer things_."

He could tell that she was smirking. He could hear it in her voice _and_ in the way she had bitten her lip earlier when he had clattered into the van wearing the stupid rented tux and with a face like thunder because he had and still _did_ feel like a tool of the highest order and yet here she was. The police Commissioner of Suplex freaking _enjoying_ his embarrassment.

Fuck.

He missed Seth and Roman _real_ bad. Or at the very least wished he had taken one of their sneezes so that _he_ could have rain checked the damn case as well.

He checked his watch.

It was only five minutes until showtime when the cover would be pulled from the bells and whistles cabinet the museum had installed in the middle of the lobby floor, so that the large and totally stealable diamond could be seen by everyone that stepped through the door. Somewhere in the background Vince barked an _aha_ noise and then came through the earpiece.

Five minutes too late.

" _Okay Ambrose son, now there's a painting up there somewhere that could be a talking point for your whole uncover thing. Its by R. V. Dam and its called The Night of Champions_."

"Oh come _on_ are you freakin' _kiddin_ ' me with this?"

Dean banged a palm into the middle of his forehead and then considered trying to break it through some glass in the hopes that a concussion would let him tap out on the whole thing, but he was luckily interrupted by a loudspeaker overhead that cut through the chatter and chinking of champagne flutes and set up a buzz of excitement.

This was it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could please have your attention, the world famous Hogan Diamond is about to be unveiled, so if you could all make your way down to lower level of the lobby the presentation can commence."

People downed their drinks at once and then began to push in a clamor of tuxedos and expensive evening dresses towards the grand sweeping stairs. Dean kept where he was and tapped on the earpiece.

"Steph?"

" _Receiving you loud and clear Ranger One_."

He grinned at that part, because it _may_ have been possible that at _some_ point he had told her that he and the guys used special names whenever they were using their top secret surveillance tech and which clearly she hadn't thought to question at all.

"Looks like there goin' to unveil the freakin' diamond, so you're probably gonna wanna keep your eyes peeled out there."

" _Copy Ranger One_."

Ha.

Dean bit a childish snort back then snuck out from behind the pillar onto the grandiose galleried landing that overlooked the newly packed out lobby down below, where anyone and everyone had hastily gathered and which gave him a near perfect view of them all. It _also_ gave him a view the big glass cabinet in the centre, being covered by a cloth and bathed in heavy spotlight glow and he narrowed his eyes and then glanced around the levels as he looked for their cat burglar.

"Come out asshole."

Beneath him the museum curator held a hand up for silence and everyone shut up in anticipation,

"Thank you. Now, earlier this year an exciting prospect arose for us. The chance to purchase the magnificent Hogan gem. The largest blue tinted diamond in existence, once thought to have belonged to King Louis the Twelfth and more recently owned by the Hogan estate."

Dean tensed.

Because his long time policeman senses were tingling. He could practically _feel_ shit about to go down and so he drew out his gun and kept it low beneath the balustrade as the curator reached for the cloth.

"And now here it is…"

The crowd let out a healthy sort of _ooh_ of appreciation as the centrepiece was finally fully unveiled, complete with the glint of the gem cut catching the spotlights but with _no_ cat burglar.

Huh.

Dean was surprised about that.

"Boss?"

" _Go ahead Rang_ …"

"Can you see anythin' out there? I mean, like anythin' on the screens, or out the front or _anywhere_?"

" _Everything seems clear_ ," Stephanie answered. She sounded pleased by that although her operative was not. Something was wrong. They had been _so_ damn certain that The Empress would be there and would strike for the gem. Frankly he would have staked his _reputation_ on it. So then where the hell was she?

He watched the security guards stand down and then lose their focus for a freaking _fraction_ of a second and...

"Oh fuck."

 _CRASH_.

Pieces of skylight exploded around him as somebody burst in through from up on the roof and in response to it the gathered crowd of rich folk screamed in unison and then began to run for cover from the shower of glass, scattering like ants and creating the perfect cover for the actual _grappling rope_ that uncoiled down. Dean raised his gun towards the ceiling and waited. But then came the smoke canisters.

"Damn it."

" _Ambrose what's going on? Do you need backup_?"

He grunted,

"Give me a sec... _fuck_."

The curse was in response to a slinky black clad figure flashing right past his eyeballs and straight down the rope faster than he could both aim _and_ shoot at them and right towards the gem into the smoke cloud.

" _Ambrose_?"

"Get the troops in here Steph," Dean barked sharply as he took off along the gallery at a hell for leather run and then turned the corner in a skid towards the staircase. Not that he _meant_ to skid like a five year old, but the damn dress shoes he was wearing had no freaking grip and which meant that he arrived at the top of the cascade all legs and arms like fucking Bambi on ice.

There were people screaming and pushing up past him and okay, so maybe his gun didn't help, but he elbowed his way through them and then stepped into the smoke cloud trying hard to peer through it.

Crap.

"Stop her. She has the gem."

Changing his course he trampled in towards the shrieking and then stumbled, almost _literally_ , across the curator from before who was stood by the cabinet with his head in his hands brokenly. Or make that he was stood beside the _wide open_ cabinet. The wide open and _empty_ cabinet, because yep. She had the gem.

"Did you see which way she went dude?"

"Uh…" the curator blinked at him, probably partly because of the shock, but also likely because he had never been called _dude_ before and certainly not by a man in a tuxedo holding a gun.

Dean barked at him,

" _Come on_."

"She went that way," the man squeaked pointing a trembly sort of finger in the direction of a corridor branching off to their right, above the door of which and through the fast clearing smoke cloud there was a sign that read _Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia._

Okay.

"Hang there," Dean growled setting off in a sprint towards it, but calling back over his shoulder, "And send the freakin' cops this way."

Then he charged from the chaos and the screaming of the lobby into the dark enclosed corridor with his gun pointed high.

On each side there were display cases leading into the Egyptian rooms, filled with creepy floor to ceiling scenes from Ancient life. On his left there was a pale unblinking dummy in a headdress with a mural of the pyramids being erected behind and on his right was an actual fricking mummy in a casket which he shuddered at then rapidly retrained his eyes.

"Fuck."

It was _not_ a good time to remember the _Kevin thing_ and so clearing his throat he chose wisely to press on.

Beyond him the corridor opened out into a larger room, but because of the collection it was shrouded in dark with the only real light trickling out of the cabinets and painting cat burglar looking shapes across the floor. Dean narrowed his eyes at each of them suspiciously but then heard faint laughter and so rose his gun.

Bingo.

"This is the police. Put your hands up an' step out. Nice an' easy now. No bein' a freakin' hero."

Two people skittered out, neither of them looking a lot like a cat burglar _or_ with a rare blue diamond beneath their arm. Because _instead_ Dean found himself blinking at a couple. Young and flashy looking so probably rich and both of them smeared in the rouge of her lipstick which explained what they'd been up to.

Dean made a face. _Eww_.

"Oh come on, _seriously_? Freakin' surrounded by ancient _dead_ guys? Go on, get outta here ya damn horny kids."

He gestured with the gun and the couple scuttled off hastily looking shame faced towards the lobby beyond. But probably _not_ shame faced enough to stop their heavy petting. Dean would probably find them grinding on a dinosaur later on. He frowned at them both but then was suddenly distracted by a flickering shadow on the far side of the room and turned just in time to see his freaking cat burglar sliding through a door.

Oh god damn it.

"Police," he barked again, as he took off behind her and punched the hidden microphone, "Hey boss are you there? Because I could really kinda use that freakin' backup about now."

" _It's nearly with you Ambrose_."

He blinked.

Steph sounded out of breath, but he pushed that thought back as he moved out of Ancient Egypt into a behind the scenes holding room instead, packed full of bubble wrapped treasures and trinkets, not to mention a cat burglar trying to bust through an exit door. He raised his gun.

 _Gotcha._

"Alright Duchess, fuckin' hold it."

"I am The _Empress._ "

"Huh?"

Dean screwed his face up at _that_ and then lifted his brows almost clear off his forehead as the thief spun back around to face him with a scowl. She had black paint smeared in a streak across her features and heavily made up eyes and...was that red and blue hair? As he blinked at her she took a half a step towards the doorway and he shook his head.

Nope.

" _Hey_ , no, don't even freakin' _think_ it."

But she did.

In fact she _more_ than freaking thought about it. Because the next thing he knew she had knocked over a painting which had been propped on a plinth for some restoration work and which _then_ began to teeter and tip slowly forwards. Dean launched towards it with a bark of panic,

" _Fuck_..."

He caught it one handed but then had to scramble as a pot and a statue were also launched his way as the Empress tried to inch a slow path towards freedom throwing artefacts like a one woman hailstorm. Dean growled,

"Hey cut it out, the fuck are you doin'? Are you freakin' _nuts_?

"I am…"

"The Empress, I _know_ l."

He spat out a further curse as she kicked a suit of armor and _then_ made a lightning fast bolt towards the door, at which point Dean figured that he probably had two choices. He could either save the knight or he could be the damn law. He decided on the latter and made a grab for her elbow wincing at the metal clatter that burst out from behind and which was suddenly interrupted by a screech in his eardrums.

"Son of a _bi_..."

" _Ambrose_ ," a rough voice barked out, because of _course_ Vince would choose _then_ to get back in touch with him.

"Kind of a little bit busy here old man," he grunted in return as he tried to keep his grip before blinking as the cat burglar _ran up the freaking brickwork_ and launched over his head in a twist from his hold. She landed behind him and then kicked him hard between the shoulder blades and the copper blonde stumbled as his gun skittered off then threw his hands up to brace against the framework as he knocked into the door.

"Fuck."

Vince helpfully carried on.

" _I think I may have found out some more about that painter we were talking about earlier_ ," he grumbled down the line as Dean spun back and caught hold of the boot heel being roundhoused towards him and...

Hold up.

"You did _what_?" Dean frowned in bewilderment, but he grinned as the cat burglar hopped up and down on one leg and flailed her hands for some much needed balance. He propelled her with her a push and she fell over backwards and nearly took out the same damn painting again. But before he could even start to _look_ for his handgun she did one of those ninja flip things and popped right back up.

"Oh crap."

Although it did look freaking _cool_ though…

Vince kept on rambling,

" _I thought it might help with your whole undercover thing to know a little bit more about the guy. Says here he was born Robert Szatkowski in Michigan and_ …"

"Not now damn it," Dean grunted back, as The Empress put her fists up and then threw a right hook at him which he blocked. But holy crap she was strong for a girl. Because what was she, like, five three or five two in height perhaps? He blocked her second right and then a left in rapid fire before stumbling on the helmet of the stupid downed suit of armor and nearly falling over.

"Fuck."

" _It also says here that he's a kickboxer and even a trained martial artist_ …"

"I said not now."

Dean swung a right hook of his own, but found it sweeping through nothing but thin air as The Empress ducked low in front of him then twirled on the floor. Her foot slung out at his and kicked it from beneath him so that he went down with a clatter and landed on his back. He grabbed a sheet as he fell and emptied the contents of a table across his damn head. The museum would be pissed, but he had no time to dwell on _that_ fuckup as The colorful headed criminal made a launch towards the door. Dean tried to scramble back up onto his kneecaps but was stopped by a third voice.

 _Steph_?

"Hold it right there."

Their ballsy Commissioner was stood in the doorway, which Dean saw from his position sort of freaking upside down. She had her service weapon pointed but it had been so long since she'd done beat work that he wondered if she remembered how to use the damn thing. The Empress slid to a halt and stamped a foot down and in response to it the boss smirked,

"Ambrose, are you okay?"

He winced,

"I'll live, but what the fuck are you doin' out here? An' where's that freakin' backup you said you were aendin' in?"

"Right here."

"Hold up. You mean you're _it_?" Dean barked in outrage, pushing himself into his hands and knees and oh holy crap was he ever getting elderly? He felt like his freaking bad _joints_ had bad joints, "No cavalry with lasers an' grenades an' that all shit? Because Seth _always_ has lasers."

Fine. Seth never had lasers but _she_ didn't know that. In response his boss frowned then made a rookie schoolgirl error.

She _looked_ at him.

By which he meant she looked _right_ freaking at him with the stink eye that he had come to know pretty well. But in doing that she took her eyes _off_ the god damn cat burglar who took her chance as Dean barked at her in warning.

"Steph, _no_ …"

"What are you..." she reacted too late to the superkick and so Dean could only blink from the floor in pure horror as his boss was propelled nearly clean from the room and _also_ lost her gun. They would have to stop doing that.

Desperately he tried to scramble back up onto his feet again to try and save the woman who drove him insane, but notwithstanding his brothers was the closest thing to family and a sister or a crazy spinster aunt that he had. He needed to protect her. But there was one thing he had forgotten. Stephanie McMahon was a freaking _badass_ and so instead of shrivelling up and begging for mercy she shot a hand out as The Empress' flashed past and caught her by the foot which sent the thief sprawling.

Go boss.

"Empress, you are under arrest, you have to right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions…"

The cat burglar lashed out again as Stephanie popped up and kicked the feisty McMahon woman backwards. Steph flew back into a full sized unblinking mannequin dressed as a Roman centurion with a spear and even though Dean had been planning on helping, he ground to a halt.

A real life girl fight? _Fuck yeah_.

"Uh boss, you need some help or…"

"The bitch is mine," she growled ferally, launching back up and then charging towards the criminal in a clumsy looking but otherwise pretty effective takedown.

There was a scream from one of them, or both of them together and then the next thing Dean knew the pair were rolling over and over on the floor, pulling each other's hair and swiping and clawing like the bitchy cheerleaders in some crappy teen film. If he had known how to work his damn phone he would have filmed it, since Roman and Seth were probably going to think he'd made it all up.

"Ugg…"

He snapped back out of his inappropriate daydream as The Empress wrapped her hands around Stephanie's throat and began to try and _throttle_ her into oblivion.

"Shit," Dean stumbled the rest of the way up and then looked around for his gun, or possibly even for _her_ gun because how could _both_ the damn things be totally lost? The boss made a noise and then turned sort of blueish and so Dean reached out and swept up an earthen pot. It was an old looking thing and kind of cracked in some places, but he figured in the circumstances it would probably do and so lifted it high above The Empress' dyed hair and then brought it down hard on the back of her skull.

 _CRACK_.

For a second he wasn't sure whether the horrible sound of breaking had come from her head or the fragile looking pot and so was actually pretty grateful when it splintered into pieces and then crumbled in his hands. The museum would be _less_ pleased though. His bad on that one.

For a second the cat burglar remained unmoving like some sort of _mutant_ freaking ninja criminal, but then her eyes rolled up and she toppled over sideways in a plant into the floorboards. Goodbye and goodnight. Steph let out a gasp and Dean smiled smugly in expectation of the thank you for having saved her life since he figured it was probably the least thing she owed him.

Or evidently not.

"God damn it Ambrose. Are you some kind of an absolute moron? I mean, what in the hell even _took_ you so long?"

He gaped,

"Uh, what happened to _the bitch is mine_ , remember?"

"That was before she tried to strangle me, idiot," reaching over Steph actually freaking _poked_ him in the breastbone before brushing past and fishing the precious Hogan gem loose as behind them the curator and the local cops burst in too late to help them but looking pretty hella impressed.

By _her_.

"Well done commissioner, you recovered diamond."

Dean raised a hand,

"Uh…"

"It was nothing," Steph sang back, smiling sweetly and...oh god freaking damn it, had he mentioned how much he missed Roman and Seth, who would have been busy checking and fussing like hens over him instead of taking _his_ credit? "It was all in a day's work."

The curator let out a wail from behind them,

Huh?

"Oh my goodness, the Sabu earthenware," he sank to his knees beside the bits of broken pottery and then ran them desolately through his hands, "Who _did_ this?"

"The Empress."

Dean and Stephanie responded in an instant, clumsily and together which was not suspicious at _all_ although thankfully the little man was too cut up to notice that part and so Stephanie continued sounding super imperious.

Darn.

"I tried to stop her, but she was determined to get away from me and she started to break things. I did everything I could."

Dean snorted,

"Oh yeah, she was a regular freakin' _hero_."

Stephanie narrowed her eyes a bit at that, or more likely the super sarcastic sounding tones he used, although luckily for him and the rest of his career hopes, The Empress chose that moment to let out a low groan and slowly blink back into the land of the living. Even though it was debatable if she knew where she was.

Dean swiped some cuffs off a nearby policeman and then bent down to snap them on her, briskly deciding to take charge.

"Okay let's see some movement, m' gonna need a van for here. Oh an' lets get a lockable freakin' box down right away so we can get that diamond back over to the precinct."

But even so there was still a _whole_ lot more to do. Like fully evacuating the rest of the museum, including the amorous couple who had probably found a hidey hole and were busy making love in a broom cupboard or something, or in the prehistoric section beneath a sabretooth rug.

Because of the screaming and the breaking of the skylight and earlier waves of panic, the press had started to turn up and so by the time the cops were ready to bring out The Empress, there were more freaking cameras than a red carpet deal in Cannes and with Commissioner Stephanie McMahon out front and centre.l gloating wildly. With Vince too obviously.

"Commissioner," someone barked as Dean ducked under the flickering police tape, "How does it feel to be the hero of the hour and to have stopped the notorious Empress single handed?"

" _Single handed_?"

Dean's snort was probably picked up by the mikes, although the boss simply acted like she hadn't heard he bellow or anything other than the wildly glowing praise.

She smiled back winningly,

"It's my job gentlemen. I never saw the danger. I just knew my city needed help. Plus I _did_ have some important assistance," she paused briefly and Dean froze and then let a little grin loose, because even though he was a shadowy top secret operative and not allowed on camera, the Shield shoutout would be nice. But instead however Steph gripped tight to her father, "The Mayor was with me through my earpiece the whole time."

Deans mouth fell open.

 _What_?

"Oh come now sweetheart," Vince chuckled, patting her hand warmly then moving closer to the bright camera lights, "Both of us were just fulfilling our duty as servants of this city."

Dean was half tempted to stamp across, although fortunately the attentions of pretty much everyone were then distracted by a groggy looking Empress being led out and in a flash the cameras and the reporters were on the move again.

"Hey, there she is."

Steph and Vince were roundly dropped and Dean beamed in childish pleasure at the look on their faces and then turned and pushed through the scrum back to their trusty van, which was parked up on the other side of the road out of the carnage with two men stood beside it.

Huh?

Except maybe not men. Because instead they were more like men _shaped_ mounds of blanket, since each of them was wrapped from head to toe in thick sheets, with one bundle sneezing and the other one coughing.

Dean frowned,

"The fuck are you two germ piles doin' here? Shouldn't you be home gettin' hooked on freakin' Nyquil?"

He was grinning internally though, because the idiots were _there_ and after having spent the past eight hours with the frankly _impossible_ McMahon clan — which had kind of been like trying to assimilate with aliens because deep down he had always kind of felt that's what they were — having his brothers in front of him felt brilliant.

Seth sneezed.

Ick.

"We herb aboud it on da news and thoughd weeb bedder gome and check up on our crazy teammate. _Ashoo_ …"

Dean frowned,

"Whoa, _geez_ , I mean like, say it don't spray it man.

"Fug you asshole."

Roman chuckled from beside them which then promptly turned into a hacking type of cough until Dean could feel the air nearly _humming_ with germ spores. But he let the big arm wind around him all the same as Roman pulled him closer and then tousled at his birds' nest with a loving and okay, _mildly_ fever soaked hand.

"You okay babe?"

Dean nodded,

"Uh huh, freakin' peachy. 'Cept there's this pot in the museum that ain't looking so hot. Uh, I think someone broke it in the fight or whatever. Probably Steph because she _was_ kinda wavin' around."

"Stephanie huh?"

Roman raised a knowing brow at him and Dean cleared his throat and then turned back towards the scene in time to witness a policeman with a heavily locked briefcase which he had been cuffed to coming down the steps, flanked by a dozen other armed and watchful officers and the panicky curator. The Hogan Diamond was on the move and knowing that it was officially no longer their problem, the copper blonde blew out a sigh and then sunk back against their van.

Thank freaking god.

"So," he chirped back merrily, "Think you two biohazards could stomach a nightcap or do you need to get back before the disease control centre closes?"

Roman shrugged,

"Well, they do say whiskey is good for a sore throat. Brother you in?" he turned back to Seth again, who paused for a second, sneezed into his blanket and then offered up a shrug,

"Ugh, I meab why de hell nob?"

"Great,"

Dean rubbed his hands together in excitement, because holy crap did he ever need a drink? Between Stephanie and Vince and diamonds and cat burglars and _not_ having his two favorite morons around.

But then that was the point. The bad guy had been defeated and okay, so technically she had actually been a bad _girl_ but the three of them had the rest of the evening. In actual fact things were looking pretty fucking good.

Except for this kind of little tickle in his nose and –

" _Atishoooo_."

The sneeze ripped out of his lungs and nearly blew him backwards into the van with the force of it, as his brothers winced guiltily.

Dean groaned,

"Oh _come on_."

* * *

 **Okay, so I know some of you were probably expecting Bo in this one…but rest assured, he'll be popping back up real soon!**

 **Next week Dean gets a little bit drunk and the boys have to look after him. The brother vibes will be strong!**


	38. Shaken Not Stirred

**Okay, so here we are again and this week (and to make up for the lack of Seth and Roman last week) we've got some fully shameless brother vibes here. Strap in for the angst and fluff and the crazy! Hope you like it!**

 **Skovko, Thanks! I felt like Asuka was a natural fit for that last one and I'm glad it worked out the way I hoped! Sometimes I get the idea first and other times I have to find a story for the superstar I want to use. That last one was both of those! This one? Who knows!**

 **Mandy, Had to include Seth and Roman in that last one somewhere and the idea of Seth all snotty and wrapped in a blanket was too good to pass up. You'll be pleased to know Seth is fully in this one. Couldn't not write our boy for too long! Glad you're slowly getting better and better. Both of us are getting there. I'm proud of us!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Haha, you know me too well! Yep, some good old fashioned angst here, but lots of brotherhood goodness too, just to balance it out and especially because I think it's what we probably all need right now!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you! Hope you like this one. It has all the feels!**

 **Cheryl24, Ha, yep, the Hogan Diamond probably has some horrible curse attached to it or something super unpalatable like that! Boo Hogan!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Aww, thanks for the double review last week. Glad you're still enjoying this little world! Yep, this week is going to be funny and also maybe a little heartbreaking too? Funnily enough Natalya is going to be coming up in a couple of weeks (great minds think alike). As for real life Dean...well, I'm just praying he resigns before his contract is up. I mean, if Brock can do it at the last minute then why can't he?! (Please universe...give us** _ **something**_ **!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Glad you liked the last one. I think it turned into one of my favourites in the end and who can ever have enough of Vince being no help and the McMahons taking credit for everything in life! All the stars aligned! Oh and yep, here comes drunk Dean!**

 **Minnie1015, Aww, glad you liked sick, grumpy Seth in that last one! But of course he would be grumpy about getting sick, since he's usually their resident health nut, drinking shakes and being healthy. I imagine that for him being sick would be a personal failing. So yep, poor sick Seth! He's grumpy in this one too, only this time for a WHOLE different reason! P.S. I promise I will reply to your message! I'm so sorry I haven't yet!**

 **Drunk Dean and a slightly quirky cameo coming up!**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Shaken Not Stirred**

Dean stepped down heavily from the doorway of the restaurant onto the frost bitten sidewalk beyond. Or _would_ have stepped down had there actually _been_ a step. Because evidently there was not.

Wait. Had there been one before?

He stumbled on the concrete as it rose up to meet him and then grabbed onto the railings lining the building outside, since it was one of those fancy kind of looking little eateries, with awnings at the windows to keep off the rain and a menu written in fluent Italian and, oh yeah, Martinis. Lots and _lots_ of those.

He grunted,

"Hey, where d' fuck did the step go? Because m' pretty…pretty sure there was a step here before, an' now it's gone. Did…did you guys see somebody take it? Because we should _probably_ file a report."

He was met with a sigh of long suffering across the earpiece and so knew before anyone even responded properly that the next one to speak was totally going to be Seth, since Roman hardly _ever_ blew frustrated huffs out at him and even when he did they were fond and kind of _warm_.

Roman _was_ warm.

Seth was more sort of _pinchy_.

" _There was no step Dean, geez, how much did you drink in there_?"

Dean grinned.

Yep. Sure enough, there was Seth, sharp but ever present from the back of their surveillance truck. Except not their surveillance truck. Not this time at least. Because their trusty set of wheels had been involved in an accident. Or, okay a _ramming_ to be more exact, which had happened when the three of them had been chasing an escaped prisoner and had made a swerve to take the getaway car off the road. It had worked — on the plus side — but maybe a little bit _too_ well since it had _also_ taken them into the water filled ditch too and then turned them fully upside down in the process and killed their little hideout. The boss had not been pleased and which was why they had _therefore_ been forced to hole up in a building and watch their latest target from a room across the street and which is why Dean then made a sharp drunken turn towards it heading straight for the road in the process.

" _Dean, hey_ …"

"Huh?"

" _I said how much did you drink in there you idiot_?"

He shrugged,

"I dunno, like two? Maybe three?"

Not that he could remember exactly, because as colorful local Italian gangster Santino Marella had continued to push tall glasses in front of his face, Dean had simply continued to down them, which was part of the plan.

Sort of. Because okay so had the plan had _not_ been to get blind drunk, but the only way Santino Marella let his guard down and let them into his inner circle was through traditional Italian drinks and so Dean had been forced to go along with it to try and keep up his cover as a low level hood, looking to break in on the drug dealing business they suspected the local mob boss of running out of the back, in the overused super Italian cliché of setting up a restaurant as a criminal front. Sometimes he wished the bad guys would be less sort of…

 _Standard_.

He stepped into the road without looking at what was coming and earned himself a honk from an unexpected car, which he simply flapped his hand at and carried on trudging like he had every ride to be stood there like a ghost in the dark.

Warm tones bled instantly back at him…

Over the driver's cursing.

"Hey, what the hell is the matter with you? Get out of the road."

" _Babe you okay out there_?"

"Yeah, s' just some freakin' jackass who thinks he owns the road. I might show him my badge. Sittin' there actin' like some big man an' like, what is that? Is he drivin' a freakin' Scion? I mean come on."

Seth barked at him,

" _Dean, hey, get out of the road you moron_."

Huh?

Still shuffling towards the opposite building, Dean looked up and then scanned the windows of the frontage until he spotted a figure ducked down low near the top, peering down at him and wildly flapping him in closer as he stalled in the middle of the street and grinned,

"Hi."

" _God damn it Dean, will you stop waving? Someone might see you_."

He blinked,

"Huh? Oh right. You mean like Marella, or his mob guys or somethin'?"

" _Dude just get up here_."

"'Kay."

But _that_ part of things was kind of easier said than done, because the building they had chosen as their base of operations was pretty much in full view of the potential crime den and so therefore to minimize any risk of suspicion they had taken to entering and exiting through the rear. Or more specifically via the rickety fire escape that snaked up the battered looking brickwork round the back, where there was not a fucking _stitch_ of natural light anywhere and which was hard enough to do in the daylight _not_ drunk, but in the dark and totally wasted was like a new extreme sport. Halfway through the climb he chose to call it _Spidermanning_ , since it seemed like his new sport probably needed a name and by the time he finally stuck his head through the window of their sparsely furnished room, he was singing the theme.

"Spider Dean, Spider Dean, somethin' somethin' a Spider can. Climbs fire escapes, any size. Fuck yeah he can, 'cos he rocks. Look oooouuut, here comes the Spider Dean…oh holy crap."

The last part of the song was barked in gruff panic as he accidentally got his foot hooked in over the sill, then pitched forward with his hands out towards the stained looking carpet in what _would_ have been the biggest human face plant of all time, had big arms not swept round him and held up with a grumble and a wash of cologne that Dean would have known anywhere.

He grinned,

"Hey uce. Look, m' like, fuckin' _Spider_ Dean."

Roman raised a brow in response,

"Sure you are, now do you think _Spider Dean_ can stand up without falling?"

"Like, no freakin' problem."

He was confident on that, because standing was pretty much a basic human life skill and besides which, he was a top secret city cop, so standing was _totally_ something he could master. He pulled out of the grip and then flung his hands open, with a grin of achievement as he managed the feat. Well, for a little while at least before he started to tip over, but backwards this time which if nothing else switched things up. Although not that the sensation was any more pleasant _or_ less of a worry,

"Oh fuck, man down…"

"Whoa."

Luckily however Roman smoothly stepped in again, grabbing him solidly by the lapels of his coat and then pulling him back into a semi upright position with a grin of sheer fondness that broke though the drunken haze. Sort of.

"M' Spider Dean."

"No, you're wasted you idiot," Seth snapped back from where he was stood by the blackout blind which they had installed to hide their literal _mountain_ of microphones and cameras and other surveillance doo hickey things, "I mean why in the hell did you drink so damn much man?"

Huh. Good question.

"I had to," Dean frowned, "For the case, so Marella would like, think I was cool an' stuff, an' be okay with makin' me one of his guys."

Seth shook his head,

"Nope. No way man. Not buying it, because I know that _you_ know better than that. I mean, whatever happened to you just _pretending_ to drink shit and then tipping it away like you usually do, or spitting it into a bottle or something? The hell happened Dean? It seemed like you _wanted_ to get drunk."

Roman frowned,

"Hey now, go a little easy here brother, because I'm pretty sure this can wait until uce has slept it off."

Or else not shuffling around like a hobo smelling like a brewery in central Turin and in response Seth blew out a tiny little half sigh which Dean figured was remorse and rightly so.

"M' not drunk."

Much.

Because the apartment they had rented for their stakeout was one of the — uh — less desirable ones in town, it had come so sparsely furnished it may as well have been barren, since it had only been home to a couch and a bed. Not to mention the probable family of rodents that _lived_ in said couch based on the _nibbly_ looking holes and the stuffing that had been strewn across the creaky stained floorboards and which Seth had dowsed in eight tonnes of disinfectant spray. Thankfully though it was the latter of their two seating options that Roman slowly manoeuvred their undercover man towards, before giving him a simple little tap between the shoulders which toppled him face first onto the mattress.

"Fuck…"

"Sorry uce, but you get a little heavy _and_ difficult when you're wasted."

"Freakin' told you m' not…"

"We believe you uce."

He shut up as a thick blanket then landed in over him and was then pulled right up and sort of tucked in around his limbs, like his mother might have done had she ever freaking cared enough and so instantly he guessed it was probably their big man. But when he looked up it was instead his _little_ brother who was flapping down the folds. Halfway resentfully of course and mumbling tersely. Yep, there was _definitely_ terse mumbling.

"God damn it Ambrose," he snapped okay uh oh because last names terms were never a massively good sign, "I mean you've been acting kind of weird all day man and now I've got to put you to bed like a god damn kid?"

Dean frowned,

Hey m' not a freakin' kid dude, m' a crack policingman."

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Uh huh."

But as he went to step away Dean reached over and grabbed him, before pointing somewhat pitifully towards the bottom of the bed and straight up whining a little, but _not_ at all kid like. Or okay, maybe a little.

"Need to take off my shoes," he made a pathetic little half stretch down towards them then gave up with a pout, "Can't sleep in my shoes."

Seth snorted,

"Come on man, I've seen you sleep _standing up_ before, in full riot gear," but he moved around the bed and then pulled off the heavy boots more roughly than needed, so that the copper blonde screwed his face up and mumbled a word. It sounded like _pinchy_ but since it made no sense to him Seth brushed it aside and then tucked the feet in, "There, happy now?"

"Uh huh," Dean nodded and then turned to stretch out again but this time stomach down on the bed, like someone had dropped him off a building or something.

Idiot.

"Get some sleep babe."

Roman returned with some water and a packet of popper pills which was probably for the best. Dean made a snort noise then nuzzled into the covers which both of them took as a drunk form of _yes_. In many ways it was actually nice to see him sleeping and Seth wondered if it was the same feeling as having a kid and putting him down for an afternoon nap or something. He shared a glance with Roman and the both of them smiled fondly before turning and beginning to quietly creep back.

Everything was still.

Briefly.

"Did you guys know that Bigfoots freakin' _whistle_ at each other?"

"God damn it Dean."

"I think it's how they communicate an' that shit. Saw a program 'bout it. Because you know, those things are totally out there, m' _tellin_ ' you man."

"Sure they are babe," Roman intoned smoothly with an indulgent sort of chuckle that Seth did _not_ appreciate. They needed to keep a united front and...oh dear god they were _parenting_ their brother and even worse than that was that _he_ was the mother in the thing, while Roman was the loving and super indulgent god damn father. Meanwhile their offspring was fast warming to his topic.

 _Drunkenly_.

"There was this thing about aliens too, an' how like, the pyramids weren't really built by people."

In response to him Seth snorted which sounded loud in the sparse apartment and the scruffy head lifted clean up off the bed to roll a suspicious but hazy blue eye at him. Because apparently even totalled their boy loved conspiracies.

Seth spread his hands,

"Aliens?"

"Dude, they have proof and…"

"No they dont Dean," the tech man shot back, partly because the idiot was drunken, but mainly because they were _supposed_ to be on a surveillance case, not having nonsensical alcohol fuelled chitchat "Aliens do _not_ exist."

Dean huffed,

"Which is _exactly_ what one _would_ say, right uce?" he looked blearily over to the big man and the Samoan in turn shrugged.

"Makes sense to me babe."

"Ha."

Dean barked the noise out in loud moral victory then promptly face planted back into the bed and in response Seth rolled his eyes but then fought a growing smile down as he returned to the grimy window where their surveillance setup was. They'd hung a blackout cloth over the front facing fixments and cut out holes to poke their multiple cameras lenses through, which included one rigged up for constant recording and a smaller one for taking more specifically aimed shots, but especially the faces toing and froing from the restaurant, which they then ran through the software on the computer beside the couch.

 _Click_.

Seth triggered the shutter on the handheld as a man in long black coat stepped from the restaurant and then turned back to Roman who was rifling in their supplies,

"Looks like we got another one."

"New player?"

Seth nodded and then took the bottled water that was offered out his way as Roman came to peer past the corner of the blackout and then grunted,

"Maybe uce can tell us who he is."

"If he can _remember_ who he is when he wakes up," Seth grumbled back before glancing towards the bed. At some point Dean had rolled himself over and then spread out like some sort of eagle in flight, or like he had been making a bed bound snow angel but forgotten he was doing it and paused kind of mid pose. Seth hushed his tones, "Hey man, do you think we should be worried about whatever's going on with him?"

Roman sighed,

"Brother I don't know, but I mean it's uce, so I guess when it comes down to it he's just going to have to tell us in his own time."

Seth made an unhappy noise in response to _that_ fact and then tapped at the big man as Marella himself appeared outside, complete with a monobrow and a green glove on one hand, which was some sort of trademark but looked ridiculous.

"There he is."

Seth took several short rapid fire photos, charting his path from the restaurant to the car and then sat back as the saloon pulled away from them and left the sidewalk empty and everything quiet. It was looking set to be a very long and lonely night for them, pretty much like it had been for the previous week. Only suddenly there was the sound of something _rustling_ from the mattress and then a raspy tone that they knew only too well.

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Dean, go to sleep already and no, before you ask I am _not_ taking off your pants."

"It was this."

"Huh?"

Blinking Seth turned around to face him and was surprised to see the blue eyes staring blankly up at the sky. Or at least the stain covered ceiling tiles above him. How did _ceiling tiles_ get stained? He had something in his hand which he had pulled from his pocket and then screwed up so he could throw it haphazardly their way. Seth cursed as the missile bounced straight off his forehead. It was a good throw for a drunk.

Kind of.

"God damn it Dean."

Bending down to pick it up, Seth unravelled the projectile and then grudgingly started to read it aloud, since their big man was frowning in confusion from beside him clearly wondering what was happening and nor was he the only one.

"Dear mister Ambrose," the tech expert started, "The Chyna Hotel is pleased to inform you that the provisional booking for your wedding is…"

He stopped and then let the rest of the gold embossed letter sort of wilt in his fingers. Because oh holy crap. Beside him Roman furrowed his brows in desolation and then rumbled a word out,

"Babe."

Dean waved a hand,

"She uh, she put our name down as a joke like freakin' _years_ ago, back when we were kinda first talkin' about that shit," he shrugged, "I guess I kinda forgot all about it, but then that turned up today so..."

He _wanted_ to say something cool, or make out like the letter was no big freaking deal to him. But it was. It was the whole entire reason he'd got drunk. Not that he had _meant_ to, because he wasn't an idiot. He knew full well that drinking on undercover work was bad. But god the buzz had numbed the pain just a little and he had wanted so hard to just freaking _forget_.

Seth pulled a face at him,

"Dean..."

"Yeah. I freakin' know right? Like, it kinda really sucks. Not that I _wanted_ to have a big weddin' or that shit. But I _woulda_ done for her, ya know?"

Roman nodded,

"Yeah we know babe and I bet you would have looked _real_ good in a buttonhole," he grinned and was rewarded with a wry little snort. But it might as well have been a straight up full frontal _belly laugh_ given the topic and the levels of pain it caused.

 _Sniff_.

Dean swiped at his nose with a sleeve cuff loosely. But only because it was too freaking cold. Not because he was drunk and emotional. Like, not even _remotely_.

"I kinda forget her sometimes…"

Crap.

Had he said that out loud? Based on the way Seth and Roman were blinking at him in a mixture of confusion and concern, then yes he had and in response to him the bigger man stepped closer to the bed again and then took a seat at the end of the thing. He totally crushed Dean's toes and so he moved them with a grumble before settling back again as a hand landed on knee and then hovered reassuringly. Seth stayed beside the cameras. But only because he _had_ to,

He blinked,

"What do you mean _forget her_ man?"

Dean shrugged,

"I dunno. Like, I guess I kinda _forget_ her laugh sometimes an' how it used to sound when I did somethin' dumb. 'Cept part of me thinks I kinda _want_ to forget it because rememberin' freakin' _hurts_."

Roman tightened his grip,

"Babe…"

Dean flipped over as something lumpy in the mattress dug uncomfortably into his back. Based on the apartment it was probably a flick knife or possibly the carcass of long deceased rat. But he was lying too close to the edge of the bed frame and so nearly tipped off it in a face plant to the floor. Luckily though Roman managed to brace him pretty solidly and then rolled him back again.

"Hey where'd the bed go?" Dean frowned in bewilderment, "Things keep on freakin' _disappearin_ ' on me tonight huh? Like the curb, an' my girl…do you think I'm like, forgettin' her?"

Roman shook his head,

"Nope, never babe," he rumbled, reaching up a little higher and tousling the mop, "That's never happening okay?"

Dean pouted,

"But it _is_ though. I feel like m' freakin' _forgettin_ ' stuff. An' not just because m' kinda _drunk_ because m' not man. But like _real_ stuff. I mean what if I forget her or like forget she existed because that totally _could_ happen."

"Which is why you've got us man."

"Huh?"

Seth stepped away from the blind as Dean blinked across at him, because suddenly their surveillance gig seemed like it could wait. Or at least until the end of the existential crisis. Italian alcohol based though it was. Flopping down hard onto the battered looking sofa, he propped his feet up on a nearby camera crate and then crossed his arms like he was bitterly offended.

"Do you think we would let you forget her like that? No way man. I mean, we loved her too remember?"

Roman nodded,

"Damn straight we did, _in fact_ babe, did I ever tell you about the favorite memory I got of her?" he leaned back against the kickboard which creaked loudly behind him but thankfully held firm.

Dean blinked at him,

"No."

"Because technically I got a whole _bunch_ of real good ones, but you remember way back when you were first going out with her and you had to bail out on that date to go to work, but then two hours later she turns up at the crime scene with a giant cheese pizza and chicken wings and _ribs_?"

Roman grinned absently which was probably little wonder because the bigger man _had_ always loved his damn food and never more than when the three of them were hard at work at a crime scene having missed out on dinner.

Dean smiled,

"She uh, she said she thought we might be hungry and didn't know what to get us so like, bought the whole lot."

Roman nodded indulgently,

"Sure did man."

He patted his stomach and earned another little snort sound, but it was looser and more contented. Well, _drunk_ but contented at least and on balance Roman decided that he would probably take that. Seth shifted on the couch,

"Wanna know what mine is man?"

Roman smirked,

"Is it the time she made you dye out your blonde streak? Because if not then it _should_ be brother."

Seth ignored him pointedly,

"No. _Actually_ it was the time we turned up at the hospital with that three hundred and like, whatever the hell pound biker guy. The one we arrested at the scene of that bar brawl. Had a god damn _chunk_ bitten out of his hand remember that? Took the three of us to hold him down and he was kicking things and screaming and then _she_ turns up and tells him to cool it and he turns into a quiet little _mouse_ all so she can bandage his hand."

Dean grinned,

"Yeah. Huh. She was like, real good with people an' not scared of anythin'."

 _God_ he was proud of that fact and of her and of having been allowed in her existence. Too brief though it had been.

Roman patted his leg,

"So, how are you feeling uce? Still having those worries or do you think you can maybe hear her laugh better now?"

He blinked.

Huh.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I can uce."

Dean sat with that thought and the sound for a second. Because suddenly the memory was as clear as freaking _day_. He could see her perfectly. Grinning at him fondly and then trying to roll her eyes at something stupid he had done before giving up and then breaking out into a whole _fit_ of giggles. Or the other times when she would just throw her head back and laugh. Like a full, eyes closed, open mouthed bark of amusement and those images stuck with him as he began to blink back sleep. Or else quite possibly an alcohol coma. But this time it felt good because _she_ was there. He grinned and then rolled himself over on the mattress away from the lump that was assaulting his spine and then slurred a few words out,

"Hey, uh, like you know, _thanks_ or whatever boys."

"Anytime man."

Roman and Seth were both smiling back, but he knew that beneath the front they were watching him like parents and that even when he acted like a total freaking asshole and _got drunk on a case_ that they would still have his back. Not that it would mean any _less_ grumbling on Seth's part, but the support would be there all the same beneath that fact.

He licked his lips,

"Did you know there are like, _twelve_ different types of Bigfoot? An' they like blueberry bagels, oh an' also apple pie."

Seth snorted loudly,

"Dean?"

"Ye…"

" _Go to sleep man_."

Roman chuckled somewhere by the foot of the bedframe and in response Dean smirked but then let his eyes shut, as around him his brothers drifted back to their surveillance gig. He had no idea of how long he was out for in the end, or when he even managed to fall asleep for that matter, but he _did_ know that when he did he dreamt about his girl a lot and about how her laugh sounded and that he slept freaking _good_ too.

Because Roman was right. He was never forgetting her. Not even if they _Eternal_ _Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_ ed his ass. He would always _always_ have the memories with him.

And he would always always _always_ have his dumbass brothers there as well.

* * *

 **Okay, so next week prepare yourself for some serious crazy as our favourite idiot puppy throws a birthday party and invites the guys. Yep. Things are going to be less than simple!**


	39. Fancy Mess Party

**So, here it is folks! The Bo Dallasiest story I ever did write. Bo is going to be on** _ **fire**_ **in this one and our boys are just going to have to make the best of things! Hope you missed our idiot puppy!**

 **HannonsPen, Aww, glad you want to know more about** _ **her**_ **. She does pop up occasionally (and she's in the dog chapter as a live person and everything) but I feel like I to have a really good idea for a real** _ **her**_ **flashback, because I've built her up so much now! Maybe one day though.**

 **Cheryl24, Maybe Dean should get back on the horse, but I kind of like my mopey boy! Besides, who would he date from the wrestling world? Nia?! (Lol...as we saw/are seeing in real life, that's not a story anyone wants!)**

 **Mandy, Aww, sorry you got bad feedback on your project. Feedback can be a double edged sword. The trick is tomorrow and keep on being proud of your effort and the parts that are right, which is something I'm trying to learn. Being a perfectionist is tough. The good news is this chapter has lots of cute grumpy Seth for you to enjoy!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, When is Bo ever on the scene without trouble following in his wake?! And you're welcome for Spider Dean. Got no idea where that one came from, sometimes the muse just goes super weird on me! Weird but funny though!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you!**

 **Rebel8954, Santino and Bo together would be like the coming of the apocalypse! Nothing would be safe! Love me a bit of 'mom' Seth and 'dad' Roman! Interesting that you mention Dean handling a brother crisis, there are some stories coming up which kind of slightly touch on him being the support. Sort of!**

 **Minnie1015, I'll make a note that you like a blend of angst and fun! Got chaos and fun in this one mostly, because, well, because it's Bo, but it won't be long before all the feels come back again! Next week to be precise...and the week after that!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Hmm, well, I guess you could say Roman and Seth pushed Dean backwards. But I like to see it more as helping him through. Dean was panicking about the thought of forgetting her and they reminded him that he never would. Either way I like to feel that he is slowly creeping forward. Slowly but surely in his own irascible way!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Technically Roman and Seth met Bo in The Shield Undivided which was when they first became aware of his existence...although in this chapter they are definitely wishing they never had! As for real life Dean, all I can hope is they give him a really sweet deal he can't turn down before we get to April. Come on Vince, pull it out of the bag!**

 **Skovko, Yeah, I heard that about the voice too and figured it would suck. Especially for someone like Dean who tends to internalise his feelings. Lucky Roman and Seth are around for some free brother therapy!**

 **Guest, Hello! Glad you're enjoying these still. A catfish is a great idea! But I'll have to put my thinking cap on a bit more with it when I come back to the oneshots again (currently on Dean and Lauren at the moment) but thank you for the suggestion!**

 **Here's Bo-ey...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Fancy Mess Party**

"I feel like a god damn idiot," Seth grumbled, for what was probably close to the ninety third time as the three of them turned the corner for the small downtown eatery that had been written on the invites in a familiar scrawled hand. The invites themselves had been designed for a children's party, in shades of blue with borders of balloons and even a space to write the age of the birthday boy which had diligently been filled out on every one.

Twenty nine.

They passed a group of girls in short mini dresses, clearly in the throes of a night out on the town and Seth complained again as they burst out in peals of laughter on seeing him in his less than flattering costume.

"Oh come on. Did you hear that? How come I'm a moron while you two look cool?"

Dean rolled his eyes up.

"Hey look man, don't blame us. I freakin' told you _weeks_ ago that if you wanted a bitchin' costume then you had to start lookin' early an' you told me that you weren't even comin' so I mean _really_ you're lucky that the shop had _any_ costumes left."

Seth blinked at him.

" _Lucky_?"

He was in a dog costume. As in a full furry onesie in a shade of chocolate brown but with a toffee colored tummy. _For belly rubs and tickles_ the shop assistant had helpfully informed him with a smile as Roman and Dean had nearly died behind him. But then even _that_ seemed better than the dog ears and the black cotton puff nose that had come with the thing and that Dean had insisted he wear against his judgement. Because, quote...

" _Come on, it's a costume party man. You gotta like, at least try an' get into the spirit, or like what's the point you know?"_

Which was probably easy for him to say since the copper blonde was sensibly fitted out as a cowboy, complete with a handkerchief pulled up over his nose and Roman too who was dressed as, well, a _Roman_ with laurel wreaths and a gold mask full Gladiator style.

Seth was a dog.

 _A dog_.

Had he mentioned that part?

"Easy brother," Roman soothed, kneading the tensed up shoulders as he followed them both but several steps behind since walking in knee high lace up sandals was still fairly new to him and all _kinds_ of weird, "Only a little further now."

Dean shrugged,

"Plus besides me, like, think how pumped up Bo is gonna be when he sees you. Because I mean, me an' Roman look good here an' everythin', but you are gonna like, blow his freakin' _mind_."

Except not literally which Seth felt would have been the better option, since their quirky informant was entirely to blame. For both the invitations _and_ his ongoing predicament, not to mention that he had given up his first free weekend to attend a glorified children's birthday party in a room above a rundown looking Chinese restaurant downtown.

He grunted,

"Okay, but so tell me again now _why_ exactly we're doing this?"

Dean shrugged a second time.

"I mean, it's _Bo_ man so like, how many friends do you think the guy has?" putting out a hand Dean pushed into the restaurant and then followed an actual hand drawn sign that had been _spelt wrong_ up a rickety looking staircase, "So I mean, what if no one else showed up? An' like it is his freakin' _birthday_ after all dude."

" _Fine_."

Seth threw his hands up, or in actual fact his _paws_ up since the stupid hateful costume had those with it too, attached by strings to the cuffs of the outfit like he was a god damn toddler not trusted with gloves.

Dean nodded,

" _Trust me_. We're totally doin' the right thing man. Because no way is there gonna be anyone else here."

He opened the door at the top of the staircase flushed with the chirpiness of being completely sure and then stepped into a room that was so crowded full of people that the three of them could barely even press their way in, or even _see_ into it for freaking vampires and mummies and a million other costumes.

Roman raised a brow,

"Uh, what were you saying about being the only ones here babe?"

"Holy crap."

There were bodies pretty much freaking _everywhere_ crammed in beneath the strung up banner which was proudly proclaiming Bo's big twenty ninth. Or _eighty_ ninth but with the eight crossed out in felt marker and replaced by a clumsy two. There was a table at one end, half rammed full of pretty standard looking party edibles and the other half overflowing with prettily boxed up gifts. They on the other hand had bought Bo a _gift_ _certificate_ which Dean stashed in a nearby plant pot feeling embarrassed by it.

Nope.

In the middle of the space there was a man dressed as an astronaut, complete with full helmet and on seeing them he came across, except moving in exaggerated man on the moon steps which took a long time.

Dean blinked at him,

"Bo?"

"Hello friends," in response a gloved hand flipped the tinted visor back and there he was beaming out at them super wide, "I'm super pleased you could come um, whoever you three guys are."

Dean rolled his eyes up then pulled down the handkerchief.

"It's me you damn idiot."

Bo gasped,

"Detective Ambrose. Ooh yay you came _and_ you brought me some brand new friends too."

Frankly given the fact that for nearly two years total Bo had been dealing with the three of them as a group — crazy late night sanatorium visits notwithstanding — it should probably have been obvious who the other two men were. Except evidently not and so to help him out further Roman peeled the gold classical mask off.

 _Ta da_.

"Hey happy birthday man, we got you a…"

"Nothing," Dean cut him off rapidly, pushing the gesturing hand back down and then clearing his throat as the bigger man frowned at him in levels of confusion, "We got you nothing, okay man?"

Bo beamed,

"Okay, I love imaginary presents because they're the best kind. But now who are _you_ friend?" He turned to look at Seth who pretty much out of all of them was the most instantly recognizable since he didn't have a mask and only the dog nose that had come with the costume and the whiskers Dean had _insisted_ on drawing to _help_.

Seth blinked,

"What do you mean who am I? It's _me_ you moron."

Bo beamed back cluelessly,

"Me who?"

"Oh for god sakes," reaching up Seth took the little ball off his nose tip, then watched as recognition flooded the helmet squished face, because apparently he made a more convincing dog than he had figured and _plus_ Bo was an idiot.

"Ohhh, you're Detective Ambrose's grouchy friend."

"I'm _what_ now?"

"Okay great, were all freakin' caught up here," Dean barked as he inserted himself fluidly in between and then wrapped a loose arm around the idiot informant which was probably for the best since Seth was blinking in outrage and plotting potential ways to try and fake the man's death, "Because I kinda got a question for you kid. Who _are_ these people?"

"Um, who are what people?"

" _These_."

Dean flung out a hand and in the process nearly slapped a woman dressed up as Madonna right across the front of a conical breast. Bo merely grinned,

"Oh, these are all my best friends."

Dean gaped,

"Did you say your _best friends_?"

"Yep."

"But I thought _I_ was your best friend," he hissed back frowning as behind him he heard Seth and Roman cough in amusement. Christ. He sounded like a god damn hurt child. Besides which he had never even _wanted_ to be Bo's best friend. But finding out that he was only one of many still kind of blew though. He shrugged, trying to downplay his level of hurt, "I mean, not that I _care_ or anythin' like that, but when a guy calls you his best friend you tend to believe him you know?"

Seth smirked,

"Hey don't worry man, I mean you're still _our_ little buddy."

"Least I'm allowed on the couch."

"Damn it man."

"Hey knock it off _both_ of you," Roman grunted in warning, giving each one of them a dig in the back before the bickering could turn into headlocks and shin kicks. Not that Bo would have probably noticed either way. A tall blonde woman hailed him from somewhere in the clamor and he waved then freaking _blushed_.

"Um, I'm going to go over there now. But I am really super glad you came to my party. Oh and there's even birthday cake."

"Great."

Dean turned his nose up, but the sarcasm withered as Bo super carefully flipped his visor back down and then proceeded to moon landing walk back across the room again to where a group of glamorous people were waiting to greet him with their drinks raised in the air.

" _Bo_."

It felt like being In the twilight zone and in response Seth blew out a breath of long suffering and then turned to his brothers,

"So what the hell do we do now?"

Roman grinned,

"Well I mean, I don't know about _you_ boys, but _I_ am gonna get me a plate and some food," he turned and began to push his way towards the table, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the goods and in response Dean shot a clueless shrug at their tech man and then turned to follow him. Seth huffed out a testy _great_ but tailed them regardless as Roman furrowed a path for them and then landed beside the food looking thankful and wide eyed. There was a three tiered cake at the end of the table with blue frosting carefully piped around each edge and a message at the bottom that had probably once read Happy Birthday until _somebody_ had stuck a god damn finger in it.

Bo.

Seth put his hands out…

Or his paws.

"Do we have to stay here? I mean, we only showed up so the idiot wouldn't be alone and I think we've established _that's_ not happening. We came, we said hello, we gave him his present."

Dean winced,

"Uh, okay, so _about_ that gift certificate…"

Seth carried on,

"I mean do you really think he'd notice if the three of us even left? It's like freaking Times Square in here man," Seth lowered his voice a touch as he hissed out the last part since there was a man dressed up like a nineteen twenties gangster squeezing his way past them with a pencil moustache drawn on who almost looked kind of very strangely familiar. Not that the tech man could place him.

Dean shrugged,

"Come on man, I mean we're here an' we got the costumes an' everything' so we should probably stay for like, at least a _little_ while."

"Easy for you to say."

Seth grunted the words back bitterly as he caught someone giving his damn outfit some side eye and plus which he was positively freaking _roasting_ inside of it. Not that Dean seemed to notice.

"Besides, look how happy the big guy is with all a' this freakin' food," beaming like an idiot he pointed fondly across at their powerhouse, who was moving down the table holding not one but _two_ plates, which he was piling high with gummy bears and mac and cheese bites like he hadn't been fed for a couple of eons, "Could you really deny him dude?"

Damn it.

Seth threw his hands up,

" _Fine_ , but half an hour and then I'm getting out of here before I die of heatstroke in this damn stupid suit."

Dean grinned,

"Deal."

But despite the assurance it was clear the undercover man was _enjoying_ himself, or at least enjoying the background music at any rate based on the way he was bobbing his head around and biting his bottom lip in as he tried to sync up to it. But then again Dean would have danced to _anything_ including a car backfiring in all probability and so Seth rolled his eyes and then stepped backwards...into someone.

Crap.

"Oh geez, my bad man sorry…"

He spun back around and right into the man in the gangster costume who had brushed past him before with the stupid pencil moustache which was starting to melt a little beneath the overheads. He was a big guy, but _bulky_ more than tall or muscular, with cold hard eyes and one hell of a glare and who clearly did not appreciate being knocked into. Accidentally or not.

"Watch it."

Seth held up his paws and then let the Al Capone wannabe pass by him, because a flash of recognition was firing in his gut and it wasn't the good kind.

Oh god damn. God damn it all.

" _Dean_."

He barked the word loudly and startled the copper blonde man midway through decapitating a red gummy bear, which he then nearly choked on as the tech man piled into him and started to tap him wildly as he glanced around the room.

Dean frowned,

"Uh, is there a reason you keep on _touchin_ ' me? Or is this some kinda _dog_ thing man? You wanna play fetch or, no," he snapped his fingers, "Lemme guess. There's a kid down a well?"

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Nikita Koloff is here man, in an actual _gangster suit_."

"Huh?"

Dean screwed his face up im surprise, or like he thought his teammate might be having a stroke or something and in response Seth heaved a sigh out and then spun him by the arm in the direction that the head of the notorious crime family had headed. Because that was what the nineteen twenties gangster was. A _real life_ gangster and a ruthless one at that too. Dean blinked,

"Oh fuck."

"Do you see him man?"

"Nope," Dean mumbled in a low hiss back over his shoulder, "But I _can_ see a pilgrim that looks like Big Ted DiBiase."

" _What_?"

Seth pushed him back out of the way and then narrowed his eyes past the mummies and the werewolves towards a man in a tall hat with buckles on his shoes who was stood chatting easily with the Madonna tribute lady. Dean narrowed his eyes towards her.

Also not good.

"Uh, hey man, am I goin' crazy or did the three of us not bust _that_ one a couple months back for solicitin'?"

Seth confirmed it,

"Yep."

"The fuck is goin' on here?"

Relatively speaking it seemed to be the question of the night although before he could answer it their big dog pitched back up, balancing his overflowing plates one on the other and chomping contentedly on a near entire garlic baguette.

He moaned,

"Oh man, you guys gotta try the mini cheesesteaks."

Dean patted him,

"Uh, maybe later big guy, because right now we kinda got ourselves a _little_ problem," taking the plates from their ever munching powerhouse and pushing them at a David Bowie costume walking by, Dean skirted the protests from both the baffled parties and then turned the bigger man like Seth had done before, mostly expecting the same near instant recognition.

Instead Roman frowned.

"Babe, what exactly am I looking for and how is it more important than…" he suddenly stopped dead and his teammates saw the moment his eyes landed on the pilgrim, or the gangster or Madonna or all _three_ of them at once. Dean nodded in sympathy at his expression,

"I know uce."

"Is that _Vickie Guerrero_ over there?"

"Ye…what?"

Both he and Seth rapidly swung back in bewilderment, although before they even got there a loud _excuse me_ filled the air which they would have known blindfolded and kitted out with ear plugs since there was nothing else like it. Vickie Guerrero was _loud_ and evidently had come dressed up as Cleopatra which her late husband Eddie, who had run the lower East Side no doubt would have approved of.

"Oh _come on_."

Dean flung his hands up while Seth held up a finger — or _okay_ a dog paw damn it — and tried to work out what was going on.

"Hold up, so let me get this straight for a second. _We_ , the three members of the city's top secret taskforce, have turned up to a party being thrown by an informant that is packed full of the biggest damn criminals in town, while dressed as an Emperor, a dog and a cowboy?"

Roman winced,

"Yep that's kinda the size of it."

" _How_?"

Dean snorted,

"How do you _think_? Freakin' _Bo_ man."

"Figure the same reasons the three of us like him are the same exact reasons that everybody _else_ must like him too," Roman offered evenly but lowering his tones a little, since the last thing they wanted was to be overheard, "I mean, hell, it's not like we didn't _know_ he worked with these people. It's why we made him our informant in the first place, right?"

Dean grunted,

"Yeah but I mean like, callin' them his _best friends_ an' shit?"

Seth blinked,

"Are you still on that?"

"No."

Dean tucked his chin into his chest and then set up a pout that seemed to strongly suggest otherwise and in response Seth rolled his eyes and then sucked in a breath, because bitching and arguing would get them precisely nowhere and besides, he _was_ The Architect.

He put his paws out,

"Okay, look, maybe this isn't as bad as we're picturing. Maybe it's just _one or two_ bad guys in here and everybody else are old school friends or cousins."

Roman frowned,

"Are you saying we should split up?"

Seth nodded,

"Yep. Each of us takes a section of the room here and works through it, see if there's anybody else we recognize and then meet back up over by the stage in fifteen minutes."

Roman and Dean both nodded in assent and then swiftly put back their helpful costume disguises, which in Dean's case simply meant pulling the handkerchief back up and for Roman meant holding the gold mask over his features. Although not before stuffing another mini cheesesteak in. Seth meanwhile reattached his dog nose with a grumble and then the three of them bumped fists before breaking off into the crowd.

 _Shield_.

Dean went through the middle since his disguise was the most generic, whereas Seth and Roman respectively skirted round to the left and right, peering at each of the heavily made up faces and squinting past the costumes and the feathers and the bows. Seth was the first to make it back over to the staging, but Dean and Roman were only seconds behind, each of them looking identically troubled. Seth blinked between them,

"Well?"

Dean snorted,

"Bad news man. It's like America's Most Wanted threw freakin' a class reunion an' everybody got an invite."

He meant that literally as well, since he had spotted a murderess, a brothel owner and a drug baron and that had all been in the first couple of feet and was before he even _got_ onto the topic of crime families, because as far as he could figure it most of the Russians were also there. Roman nodded in agreement.

"Same here man, I mean if we were on the clock with a precinct full of backup this place would be the motherload."

Seth blinked,

"Did anyone bring their guns?"

"Uh, to put _where_ exactly brother?" Roman grunted with a chuckle as he gestured to his flimsy looking Emperor style robe, the red colored cloak of which thankfully spared the big man's blushes, but would in no way have done the same for a holster and gun. He looked towards Dean hopefully, "Don't suppose those things are real huh?"

"Nope."

Dean pulled out the plastic pistols of his costume, one on each side to give a gunslinger vibe and then tapped them on the stage to show how useless they were to them.

"But I guess I could always _pretend_ like they were," he tried to twirl one round his finger like in the movies and it flew off and bounced into the skin of the drum before ricocheting back and hitting him in the shin bone, because apparently the whole evening was a Buster Keaton film.

Seth rolled his eyes.

Idiot.

"How about you trying to _not_ get shot for real man?"

Dean grinned,

"Nah, but it's nice to know you care," in order to try and be additionally frustrating he leaned over and gave Seth a scritch behind the ear which he batted back down as Roman cut through the bickering like the eternal big brother.

"So do we got a plan? Because if not then I think we should probably think of something before one of these guys up and figures out who we are."

Seth let out a grumble of malcontent,

"Okay, I'm _thinking_."

Dean however was drawn to the door and in particular the newcomer boldly trampling through it dressed like freaking _Attila The Hun_ which seemed like a friendly choice to pick for a party. Or at least a _Bo Dallas_ party at any rate. He was a big man in all directions, but in height more than anything since he stood at easily over six and a half feet tall and for a second the big handlebar style moustache sort of masked him. Right up until Dean suddenly realized _precisely_ who he was. Crap. He put a hand out and tapped his nearest available teammate,

"Uh guys…

"Problem is," Seth offered in the background brushing him off and ignoring his uncertain tone, "We can hardly call for backup when there's no reason to arrest anyone. I mean, being at a party isn't exactly a damn crime."

"No really, _guys_ …"

"Plus if the cops really _did_ turn up here then you can _bet_ Bo would say something idiotic and go getting himself arrested or end up telling everyone who we were and as much as I hate having to admit this part out loud, he _is_ a pretty good informant I guess."

Roman nodded,

"Besides, I mean, it's his birthday."

" _Guys_ …"

Dean tried his frantic prodding a second time, but kept it up then moved it down to Seth's ribcage as he kept his eyes on the man at the door, who had brought some burly looking henchmen in with him dressed as Mongol soldiers which, okay was a thoughtful touch, but hardly helpful in the grand scheme of their problem. His last poke was more of a punch and in response to it Seth barked.

"God damn it man _what_? What the hell is wrong with you?"

" _Look_."

Dean grabbed him by the dog suit and then pushed him forward so he could see through to the door and more specifically to the proud looking gaggle of warriors who had suddenly turned up like an enemy horde. Seth's face fell and so too did Roman's as he peered over their shoulders and then rumbled lose a grunt, not to mention a blink of bewilderment.

"Uh, is that who I think it is?"

Dean nodded.

"Yep."

It was Vladimir Kozlov, or to put it more simply, it was the _other_ Russian in town, who for the past three years had been involved in a bitter turf war over pretty much _everything_ with the rival Koloff boys in a beef that had made the heat between the Hatfield and McCoy families look like a freaking bake sale.

Seth blinked,

"Oh no, please tell me that our god damn idiot informant didn't invite two bloodthirsty warring factions to the _same_ _damn party_?"

Dean scratched his neck,

"Uh…"

But the evidence was clear and so all they could do was sit and watch with growing horror as other people in the room began to realize who was there and as the chatter and the laughter and even the damn _music_ slowly faded and as the crowd began to open like Moses parting the freaking sea. The moment the rival factions laid eyes on each other was tense enough that it probably could have been cut with a playing card instead of a knife and the whole thing felt like a dangerous tinder box.

Except to one person.

"Oh why did the music stop?" Bo was still up on the stage with the blonde girl, who for reasons unknown had been sitting on his lap, but who promptly skedaddled at the first sign of trouble.

Dean hissed at him desperately from several feet away,

" _Bo_ …"

"Ooh Vladimir's here, hello friend," Bo beamed at him waving so energetically he slopped the contents of his saucer glass and...oh dear god. Was the idiot was wasted? Like they had needed things to be any _worse_.

Koloff pulled out a gun from the waistband of his gangster pants and the second it flashed loose people began to run and scream. Across the room one of the Kozlovs kicked over the buffet and then hunkered behind the table as the factions bedded in. The three tiered cake slid from the top in the process and then landed as a blue frosted splatter on the ground, one which Bo was evidently still lamenting as the bullets started flying. Fired by _Mongolian warriors_ no less.

"My _cake_."

"Bo get down," Dean barked, reaching up over the staging and grabbing the idiot puppy by the sleeve, before hauling him back to where the three of them were bent down beneath the hailstorm of bullets.

Roman grinned,

"Hey man, you sure know how to throw a party."

Bo didn't quite get the sarcasm,

"Thanks."

Rolling his eyes Seth peered around the drum kit and back towards the stairway to the restaurant down below. At first glance it had seemed like their best chance of a speedy exit, but as a gun fired from the corridor he realized it was manned. Probably by the Kozlovs or the Koloffs or...god damn it. Why in the hell did they have nearly the same name? Behind them a bullet ricocheted loudly off the plasterwork and Roman cursed briefly at it being so close.

"Damn."

"Okay," Dean barked at them over the gunfire, "So I mean like, what's the freakin' plan here? Do we wait for the cops? Because don't forget I still got these babies."

He tapped a second time at the trusty leg holsters and Seth bit back a grunt and then rolled up his eyes, since no way were they trying to bust through a firefight with a pair of plastic pistols and him in a damn _dog suit_.

Roman blew a sigh out,

"Nah, no can do babe, not unless you want them to arrest _you know who_."

"Oh, right."

Bo.

Because even though the idiot was totally non-threatening and unarmed _and_ bewildered, he would still be rounded up and _especially_ if the cops found out that it was _his_ party. Bo would never have lasted in jail. Not for an hour and not for a freaking _minute_. It probably would have scared the crap out of the poor kid and for all he drove the three man taskforce god damn crazy, none of them wanted him crying behind bars. Not on his _birthday_. The idiot rose a hand up,

"Um, excuse me?"

"This isn't class Bo," Seth grunted wearily, "You don't have to put your hand up."

"Oh."

He put it down again and then sat blinking like a mute, or like he had never been going to say anything in the first place. Or like bullets _weren't_ buzzing like deadly hornets above his head.

Seth bit back a groan,

Good grief.

"But you _are_ allowed to speak man."

" _Oh_ ," Bo let out a super toothy little grin and then wrapped his skull with his knuckles and made a _duh_ sound, before then squeaking as a bullet hit the drum and scared him, " _Eep_. Ooh. Cheese and _crackers_ that was close. So I was thinking we should probably try and get out of here."

Dean snorted,

"Yeah, well welcome to the problem man. _How_?"

"Oh," Bo blinked and then scratched his head a little as if he finally understood the situation they were in, then blew out a breath, "Well I was _going_ to say the fire escape, but that's probably silly."

"The _fire escape_?"

It was possible that all three of them barked it at the same time, or at least based on the way their idiot informant leaned back, like he hadn't been expecting the answer in stereo.

"Um, yes?"

" _Dude_ ," Dean hissed, "Where it is?"

"Over there."

Despite the fact that he still looked completely baffled — which was normal in his case — Bo pointed to the wall, or at least a long drape that had looked like a stage curtain and therefore hadn't been on their radar at all. Rapidly Seth narrowed his eyes towards the bottom of it and sure enough, there was the lip of a door. Right freaking _behind_ them.

He growled,

"Well why the hell didn't you tell us that?"

Bo blinked,

"I...I just did."

"No, _before_ when…you know what, never mind," Seth flung his hands up, because there wasn't enough time and besides which the gun battle was showing no signs of ending and they were all still unarmed, "Let's just get out of here."

Roman nodded emphatically,

"Agreed bro."

Even so though the act of shuffling backwards and trying to keep low was hard, because the bullets were flying so damn fast around them there was the very real danger of catching an errant one, or copping a ricochet right between the eyeballs, which would have been just their luck.

Dean led the way. In full length floor to belly slide across the carpet with Bo following behind them, Roman pushing him along and with one hand clamped hard to the bright silver spacesuit in case the idiot got it in his head to stand up or veer off. _Both_ of which were entirely possible. Seth brought up the rear with the stupid dog ears in his eyes and so he ripped off the headpiece and threw it away again before tossing the god forsaken nose off too and hoping against hope they got riddled with bullets.

Because the dog suit was so god damn hot and stuffy, crawling out into the fresh air was a welcome relief and the second he was through Dean banged the door behind him then stood up again,

"Fuck."

It summed up the night, although clearly not to Bo.

"That was the best party _ever_."

"Sure it was man," Roman kindly rumbled back as they trampled along the flat and slippery roofline of an extension and then shimmied one by one down some steel steps back to the ground.

Off in the distance they could hear incoming sirens, not to mention the continued bark of guns from inside the room, blended with the panicky screams of restaurant patrons as they downed forks on dinner and tried to flee the scene.

Reaching out a hand Dean patted their informant,

"Sorry your birthday blew."

Bo grinned,

"Oh. That's okay and besides, it isn't actually _really_ my birthday. It's only my _half_ birthday," he frowned, "Did I forget to say that part?"

"Your half birth…"

Seth spluttered out part of the sentence but then promptly petered out as the horror took hold. Because as bad as it had been having to dress like a _spaniel_ and then getting caught in a god damn _firefight_ , it had somehow seemed okay — or at the very least bearable — when it had been because their idiot was having his special day.

But a _half_ birthday?

No.

"God damn it I can't believe this. I mean I knew you were an idiot but this is something _else_. What were you _thinking_ man. Do you even _see_ what I'm wearing? Oh and another thing…"

Roman stepped behind him and clamped him with his hand before he could say anything else possibly wounding, even though it didn't stop the tech man mumbling from underneath his palm. The powerhouse grunted and then tapped him on the shoulder,

"Easy now brother."

"But…"

"I know man, trust me, I know."

Bo meanwhile was stood blinking in bewilderment, like he had no earthly clue what had set the man off and as Dean drew in close he put a hand up to whisper. Unwisely as it turned out.

"See? I _told_ you he was the grouchy one."

Behind them Seth muttered and tried to surge free from Roman, who fought to keep the smaller mam contained against his chest and in response Dean put an arm around their moron of a puppy and then steered him away trying hard to keep his calm,

"Okay buddy, you should probably go now, before you get killed by a six foot freakin' dog."

Bo nodded cheerfully,

"Okay."

He turned to skip away from them, looking like Neil Armstrong or no, _Buzz Lightyear_ on crack, although he stopped and looked back from the mouth of an alley as Dean called out across the space in a bark, loaded with all of the indignance he could muster.

"An' by the way, you owe us a freakin' gift certificate too."

* * *

 **So? Did we all miss Bo? Aww, come on, I know you did!**

 **Next week it's Roman and Seth in trouble...time for Dean to activate hero mode!**


	40. The Showoff

**Okay, so time for Dean to play the hero for once, albeit in his own grumbly and slightly chaotic style!**

 **Mandy, Awww, glad you liked that last one. I thought it was about time for a story more from Seth's perspective. Not that he was as pleased with it of course, what with being dressed up as a dog and everything. Sorry Seth (but not really because it was funny!)**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you *waves***

 **Cheryl24, Haha, well, I think in an alternate universe Seth probably did kill Bo after that last one. But in this little world he's still walking around (or walking into things or off things more than likely, knowing Bo!)**

 **Rebel8954, Bo does love himself a good party. Although mostly I think he just loves himself some cake. Boy after my own heart and all. Yep, totally time for Dean to be kickass!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, I couldn't resist the idea for that last chapter. I just had visions of the guys undercover at a fancy dress party and from there Bo popped into it and the rest is history. I mean, it always had to be a Bo party right?!**

 **Skovko, I think Seth's main problem with the dog costume (over than feeling like an idiot and it being too hot) was that Dean and Roman looked kind of cool in theirs. But then again, if he will leave costume shopping until the last minute…**

 **Derick Lindsey, Um, yeah, sorry, but I do not get the Bizzarro World reference…my bad? (Said R Truth style obviously!) Dean is in no way Bo's best friend, but that doesn't mean he wants anyone** _ **else**_ **to be. It hurts his ego! As for real life Dean? I think you may be right with The Shield reunion stuff. But most importantly I want Dean to re-sign!**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Awww, thank you very much.**

 **Minnie1015, The world would be a better place if Bo was in charge. Or, no, actually it would be absolutely chaotic, but at least everyone would be too dopey to notice! Yeah, next Bo Dallas party the boys are going packing!**

 **Here comes Dean…**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: The Showoff**

Dean blinked suddenly into the darkness and then lay for a second wondering where the hell he was and why he had woken up and what freaking _day_ it was and why he could feel a hot weight on his legs.

Huh?

He moved them from beneath it and the thing meowed at him because…oh, right. He had a cat now. Even though the thing was clearly pissed at having been woken in the dead of freaking night. Because that was what it was. Either that or else Dean had gone blind for no reason in between dinner and having fallen into bed and besides, he _couldn't_ have because a light was shining somewhere.

He turned with a grunt and then reached for his cell phone, which was actually _buzzing_ too. Hope snorted from between his legs and then got up and pointedly moved up beside him. Sticking her tail in the air and then waddling like the sour puss she was to the cool spare pillow beside his head, which he instinctively put a hand out to try and counter, because his girl had once slept there and it still had _her_ scent, which wouldn't be the case if the god damn _cat_ kept lying there.

"Hey no…"

He poked her and Hope lashed out a razor claw and then painted a nice bloody trail down his knuckles as he grappled with both his phone and his murderous roommate.

Fuck.

He pointed at her,

"Hey knock that crap off ya hear? Because you and me got ourselves a freaking deal. I feed you and let you live in my apartment and you keep out mice and the lady downstairs whose allergic to cats but apparently _not_ to pinching butt cheeks. Oh and rats too, ya got that?"

"Meow."

"Damn freaking right."

His phone was still ringing and so Dean rolled onto his back again and then tried not to groan at how bright the thing was, as he winced into the floodlights of his damn caller display screen.

Seth was calling him and so he blew out a grumble and then swiped a weary hand down over his face, because no doubt Stephanie was rounding the troops up to flush out a den of human traffickers or thieves, or else had gotten a call from some spurious long lost boyfriend and needed them to get there and pretend to be gay, or a million _other_ errands that their Commissioner liked to save for them. He pressed the green button — or okay, missed and _then_ pressed it — before holding the gleaming thing up to his ear and rasping out a sentence that was as happy as his cat was.

"Freakin' _what_ man?"

" _Dean_?"

He blinked in response, because briefly Seth didn't kind of sound well _Seth like_ and especially not a Seth who had been woken in the wee hours for something Commissioner or police work related. Instead he had sounded sort of frantic and _pained_? Dean sat up at once which then dislodged the cat a second time although thankfully she chose not to rip him to bits. Possibly because she could hear his heart pumping and his brow creasing inwards.

"Seth?"

" _Dean, I'm sorry man. He grabbed us from out of nowhere and_ …"

"Whoa, who did _what_ now?"

Seth ignored him,

" _Listen Dean, whatever he says or whatever he tells you, do not come out here looking for us, do you hear? Me and the big guy are gonna be fine Dean, so don't be a hero and_ …" he went silent suddenly. Or okay, so maybe _not_ so silent because Dean could still hear him trying his hardest to speak and mumbling as something or _someone_ covered his mouth up. Dean nearly had a conniption.

"Seth? Talk to me man what the hell is goin' on here?"

 _How_ was it even?

He had seen them three hours ago, when he had called it a night and trudged from the warehouse leaving his brothers to pack up shop on their own. Seth had been eyeball deep in some research and so Roman had volunteered to stay behind and drive him home. So then how could _that_ have turned out so damn badly and into _this_ fuckup?

"Roman? Seth?" he tried again sucking in a hopeful breath at the sound of sudden fumbling. Only then he ended up even _more_ confused.

" _Hello Dean_."

Huh?

He frowned at the sound of the brand new voice that chuckled out at him. Because evidently whoever their _current_ asshole of the week was he was getting a real kick out of being a total dick, but in spite of that he had a kind of _regular_ sound to him. Except for the fact he was smugger than fuck and was chuckling. Freaking _chuckling_.

"Do you remember me detective?"

"Uh, nope. Why? Should I?"

Dean played it cool or at least about as cool as he was physically able to, given that his brothers had been taken fuck knew where and by fuck knew _who_ too since Dean was freaking clueless. For god sakes he had been a cop for over ten years, half of which he had spent undercover flushing gangs out and putting dudes behind bars. He had no damn idea how many assholes he'd encountered and he damn sure didn't know their individual freaking sound _or_ talk to them regularly enough to remember them.

 _Fuck_.

Back on the line the guy chuckled a second time, because of freaking _course_ he did. Whoever he was Dean hated him bitterly.

" _Folks used to call me The Showoff_."

"Hold up. Dolph?"

In response Dean got like, the what eighth or ninth chuckle and made a mental note to punch the guy's damn voice box out or to cut off his tonsils or _whatever_ made the damn sound, because holy crap it was driving him insane.

But beyond that there was nothing but loud screaming static. Because _Dolph freaking Ziggler_ had taken his friends? The same Dolph Ziggler that he had busted three years back for selling some bad crystal meth to a bunch of kids on the first job he had done after Roman had left him and after his girl had gone. _That_ Ziggler? What the fuck?

" _Hey look at that. I guess you do remember me_."

"Let them go asshole," Dean snarled down the phone.

" _Or what_?" Dolph sneered, " _Why would I do that. What could possibly be in it for me_?"

Dean sucked a breath in,

"Fine. Me for them asshole. Because I'm guessing that's _kinda_ what this whole thing is about? You being pissed at me for giving you jail time?"

In the background he heard some semi frantic grunts and mumbles which he guessed were from his brothers. Well, probably Seth, because Roman would totally be sitting be stoic and trying to murder the guy with his eyes. Unless the bigger man was hurt or unconscious or…

Fuck.

Nope. Dean wasn't going to think like that.

Dolph barked,

" _I got five years because of you asshole. Five years for selling a little crystal meth. Five years because you made out like you were one of us and then sold us down the river for a pat on the back. I still sleep with a knife under my pillow. Do you know how that feels_?"

"Like I said, me for them," Dean bit in reply clenching his teeth so hard together that he was probably only seconds from shattering them to bits, "Give me a location and I'll be there I promise. No guns, no backup, no calling the police. But you gotta promise me, an' I mean freakin' _promise_ me, that you're not gonna hurt my boys okay? Do that for me an' you got me any way you want me."

" _Mmmph_."

Dolph snorted at the protest from Seth but then clearly nodded.

"Deal."

Dean blew a sigh out.

"Okay man, now tell me where you are and…"

Dolph barked at him,

"But no getting clever or funny with me Ambrose, or else one of your boys here is gonna feel the hurt," Dean heard a grunt which was too low to be a Seth sound and so _had_ to be Roman being hurt some way and how. Not that he liked to think about the _how_ part.

"Hey man I freakin' promise. Now leave him alone."

Dolph Ziggler smirked back. Well, _probably_ anyway.

" _Fine but hurry up Dean, because my fingers are getting kind of twitchy feeling here, plus the big one keeps scowling and I'm getting a little sick of it. Do you know Deadman Forest_?"

Huh?

Dean blinked at that because the question seemed to come from out of nowhere and besides which he had been too busy on the whole _Roman_ part, because if the big man was grunting — and especially scowling — then he was obviously alive and awake which was good. Or well, at least as good as could be expected given that his brothers been kidnapped by a con.

But Deadman Forest?

"I…"

Dolph spoke on over him,

" _If you want to save your buddies then that's where they are. Drive up the mountain pass for about eight miles, then take a right up a dirt track to a house. There's a mailbox out front in blue and come alone man or_..."

Dean huffed,

"I know asshole, you got _twitchy_ feelin' hands."

Dolph chuckled.

"You got thirty minutes to get up here…"

"What?"

Dean fired the word out super high. Or high pitched for _him_ anyway because Deadman Forest was forty miles off and he was sat in the middle of his bed in the middle of the city dressed in only his shorts and _cat hair_ and which meant that unless Dolph expected him to _fly_ there, half an hour was not long enough. He sucked a breath in,

"Look man…"

" _Not a second more Dean, so I would probably get moving_."

But…"

"Be seeing you."

 _CLICK_.

Dean bit out a curse as he was promptly hung up on, then ripped back the bedclothes like a drill sergeant at sunrise.

"Fuck."

Rolling across the bed he nearly flattened Hope completely and turned her into a pancake of fur, although thankfully she managed to ninja herself from squashing range before turning to hiss at him and lash out a claw. Not that Dean noticed since he was marginally too busy trying to find the damn pants he had thrown off the night before, not to mention some freaking socks and his stupid leather jacket. He tracked down his t-shirt but pulled it on backwards and so was trying to swing it round as he blundered out into the hall, whereupon the cell phone started buzzing in his fingers.

Dolph again?

In a panic he picked up at once and was halfway through barking out a super pissy sentence when he was roundly interrupted,

"Look I'm freakin' _comin_ ' okay man? But I need some more time here if you want me to…"

" _Ambrose_?"

He blinked several times in bewilderment.

"Steph?"

Because why the fuck was their damn _boss_ calling him? Unless of course. Wait. Had Dolph called _her_ in? Dean felt himself flood swiftly with thankfulness, because frankly he needed all the help he could get and okay, so maybe they couldn't call the cops in, but _together_ they could probably come up with a plan or something and…

Stephanie giggled.

Giggled?

" _Hey there Ambrooooooose_."

"Uh…"

Stephanie had never fucking _giggled_ in her life. Or at least not in the six long years that he had known her and so honestly he had figured she physically _couldn't_ perhaps? Like a giraffe, because he'd read once they didn't have vocal cords. Only Stephanie McMahon had plenty of those. Mostly he had put her down for evil witch cackles but never freaking giggling like a schoolgirl _at all_ and not when her best two men had been captured. So what the holy fuck…

She hiccupped,

" _Do you know what? I kinda like you Ambrose. I mean not like like you, because you're kind of a dick, but I'm weirdly sort of fond of you sometimes_."

Dean blinked,

Crap.

"Stephanie," he huffed out, as he crossed into the living room trying not to hiss at the brightness as he flipped on the ultra sharp overhead light and then plucked his gun from the safe in the corner to tuck one handed into the back of his pants, "Are you freakin' like, _drunk diallin'_ me right now?"

She giggled again.

Weird.

" _Um nooooooooo, because okay, I might have had some wine but_ …"

"How much?"

" _Relax Ambrose it was only a bottle_."

Dean grabbed his eyes as she hiccupped again, except it sounded so suspiciously close to a pre-hurl that he narrowed his eyes in frustration. Because _fuck_. Clearly Dolph Ziggler had not called her about his captives, which meant that he was right back to being on his own and nor could he tell their commissioner what was happening, firstly because of the threat to Seth and Roman and _secondly_ because she was freaking hammered on hooch. Struggling to shrug on his jacket one handed and _not_ step on Hope who had followed him out, he growled down the phone like a god damn freaking _parent_ as he stepped from the apartment.

"Steph?"

" _Hey Ambrose you need to lighten up and_ …"

"Stephanie," he barked,

" _Hm_?"

"Where the fuck are you?"

" _At_ _home_."

Dean blew out a thankful sigh at _that_ part and then even raised his eyes to hallway ceiling, because at least she wasn't slumped in the middle of the road, or making a call from the drunk tank of precinct since that was the _last_ thing he needed right then. But if she was home that was one less thing to worry about. Other than trying to get her off the freaking phone.

He coughed,

"So listen boss, I'm kinda _real_ freakin' busy here, so unless you wanted somethin' then…"

" _I got married today_."

"What?"

Dean's bark nearly woke up the whole freaking building and probably some people in the next block as well, as he pushed from the hallway into the stairwell then began to trample down them two steps at a time. Because how in the hell could his brothers have been _kidnapped_ on the same freaking day his drunken boss had eloped? And who in the hell had she even married anyway?

Angle? Because it _had_ to be Kurt Angle right?

" _Eight years today_ ," Steph drunkenly continued with a sloshing sound like she was maybe pouring out another glass, " _Eight whole years since Hunter and I got married on the lawn at my parents' house in Stamford_."

Dean blinked.

"Oh."

She was talking about _Hunter_. Otherwise fondly known as her corrupt asshole ex. Or her corrupt and very _deceased_ asshole ex-husband, since Stephanie had shot him in a break-in two years before. Fuck, no wonder the boss was drinking. Frankly it was impressive she wasn't freaking _comatose_. Although if that _was_ another glass she was pouring then it was probably only a matter of time. She hiccupped again and he frowned,

"Hey boss look…"

 _Hick_.

" _Kind of thought you might understand_."

Ouch.

He sucked in a breath as he pushed from the stairwell and into the half lit lobby of the building his girl had loved, trying to figure out when his night had turned so loopy between his brothers and his boss and…

Roman and Seth.

 _Fuck_.

Regardless of what Stephanie was obviously going through, his brothers were the only freaking thing he cared about and so heading out onto the street with a shiver and then spinning towards his car against the bitter evening chill, he tried to ease her off the phone for the second time.

"Look boss, I mean I know it freakin' sucks here, an' all that hooch you're knockin' back probably ain't much help. But like I said before, I can't really talk now so…"

" _Is something going on_?"

Wow.

Dean was actually quite impressed, because for a woman who had probably guzzled a hundred dollars' worth of grape juice her Commissioning instinct was still ridiculously honed. In fact she barely even sounded drunk in the moment. Instead she was spunky and feisty. Like Hope. Maybe that was why he had picked the damn cat in the first place. Because she had reminded him of somebody…

Damn. He cleared his throat and then reached over his windshield to try and swipe the forming ice off.

Ooh. Crap. Cold.

"Nothin' you need to worry 'bout boss," he offered back as brightly as he felt that he was able, considering that his best friends and family were sat trussed up with some blast from he past con, in the middle of a forest he had — he checked his watch — _nineteen_ minutes left to get to.

"Ambrose are you sure?"

Nope.

"Uh yep," he nodded back, figuring that the dime sized hole he had scratched out would be enough for him to see through and so clambering in. Not to mention his whole promise to not bring cops or backup, on which Roman and Seth's lives were probably hinged. But he paused for a second before he started the engine, "But hey boss, do me a favor an' stop drinkin', huh? Pour the rest away, go to bed an' sleep on it, because it's never as fuckin' bad in the mornin' okay? I mean, it's still bad but not _as_ bad."

He was crap at pep talks, although Stephanie seemed to hum a little in response,

" _Hey Ambrose_?"

"Yeah?"

" _Thanks_."

"Anytime Countess Dracula," he snorted at her teasingly, before turning the keys and bringing the engine back to life, "Oh an' boss do me a favor an' go to sleep on your side huh?"

He flung the cell phone away before the woman could come back and then pulled from the kerbside to rescue his brothers with seventeen minutes and thirty seconds left to spare. Fuck. He punched the gas and then ran an empty red light.

"Hold on boys."

Dean Ambrose was getting his brothers back.

In terms of its location and basic geography, the happily named Deadman Forest was about an hour's drive. A rolling collection of tall bluffs and canyon waterfalls that differed from the barren hills encircling their town. Even in the darkness as he tore along the highway Dean could feel the landscape turning leafy and green and could see the clear roads that led up into the forest starting to narrowing and bank away in steep turns and, as promised, about eight miles from where the mountain pass started, there was a turn and a blue mailbox.

Dean took the turn at once and then bumped from the asphalt onto a dirt potted droveway that had evidently been bombed at some point in its life, since it threw him around in the seat like freaking _crazy_.

Crap.

Dolph could probably hear him like freaking a _mile_ away, which was possibly why he had chosen the cabin. Fucking Dolph Ziggler.

Dean pulled up the car leaving it about halfway up the stupid dirt track driveway and then heading the rest of the way up on foot, since it gave him an element of surprise at least partly. Or maybe not but he kind of _felt_ like it did. There was a house right at the top, dark and overgrown looking like something from out of a freaking fairytale, or like maybe it had a princess locked in a bedroom. Or , you know, how about two top cops, who were standing in for the role of helpless damsels?

Being super careful not to crunch the ground beneath him Dean snuck up to one of dirty looking panes and then peered through with his gun held up in caution and half expecting Dolph Ziggler to be staring back.

But nope.

Instead he blinked into a badly lit kitchen that obviously hadn't been used in years and where two figures were sat back to back and tied to dining chairs with strips of heavy tape pinned fast across their mouths. Fuck. Dean felt his stomach twist over as he saw them, but both of them were alive and looking alert and pleasingly - or no scratch that, freaking _unnervingly_ \- there was no sign of Ziggler.

Had he gone maybe? Scrammed?

Neither of those seemed particularly likely, which meant that he was probably walking into a freaking trap, but what other choice _was_ there? Dean sucked a quick breath in and then slowly crossed back over the doorway.

Three…two…one…

 _BANG_.

He kicked the thing in and then burst through the fragments with his gun raised at head height and whirring it around as he scanned the room in front of him, shouting instructions,

"Fuckin' gig's over Ziggler. Give it up. Come nice and quiet an' let go of my brothers," he spun the weapon round to a shadowy corner and was surprised to find Dolph sat back in a chair. Like, a freaking _armchair_ for a little old lady and with one leg hooked up casually over his knee, like he _hadn't_ gone out earlier and kidnapped two policemen or had a third one pointing a gun at his head.

He grinned,

"Oh hey Dean. Gotta say you're a little late man."

"What?"

Dean screwed his face up heavily at that, then at the same time became aware of Seth desperately mumbling as he tried to loosen the mouth covering tape. Something at the back of Dean's neck began to prickle, like maybe there was somebody _else_ there with them too and so he spun towards the door at the same exact moment that Seth licked the tape loose and then yelled,

"Dean look out…"

 _Fuck_.

He turned a fraction too late to stop the impact as a monstrous sized hand swiped the gun from his grip and then followed with a punch that was so freaking powerful that it probably could have cut clean through a brick wall. Although in the end it simply punted him headfirst into the doorframe.

His head bounced off it. Hard too.

 _CRACK_.

" _Dean_ …"

Fireworks and stars and a whole fucking _laser show_ went off in his eyes as everything else went black and for a second his kneecaps turned into freaking _jello_ and made him look like Stephanie probably felt. Roman was too grunting from somewhere in the background as predictably his teammates panicked over him, but Dean had precious little time to dwell on that moment, _or_ the fact that they felt the need to freak, because suddenly hands fell down over his shoulders and pulled him back onto his feet again.

Oh shit.

"Hey, who the fuck _are_ you?" Dean grunted out bitterly at the guy that was manhandling him and who, _holy crap_ was large. He had to be six and a half feet easily, with long limp black hair and goatee and moustache, but with muscles that stretched down to freaking _Brazil_ and back and who was wearing a super cliched bad guy type of a scowl.

Dolph chuckled proudly,

"Dean this is Drew McIntyre, my business partner in this little scheme."

Dean coughed,

"So what the fuck am I meant to have done to _this_ guy?" it came off as a squeak since Drew was squeezing his lapels in and ever so _slightly_ starting to cut off all the air, which was becoming a bit of a problem if he was honest.

Dolph shrugged,

"Oh you did nothing. Drew here just hates the cops."

"Good to know," Dean wheezed the words back out, but then was once more sent reeling as Drew launched out a fist and caught the copper blonde man on the underside of his jawline. Dean flew backwards and piled spine first into a kitchen counter. Dolph hadn't been kidding. Drew really _did_ hate the cops. In the background Seth barked out in furious muffled protest,

"Leave him alone god damn it you asshole, or I swear when I get out of here…"

"Shut up."

Dolph stamped across the room and fixed the tape back, but _fuck_ it was good to hear Seth bitching and besides which, the brief complaint had made Drew stop and pause as he and Dolph had shared a look of cruel amusement, but which _had_ given Dean the chance to look around and…

 _Aha_.

He reached out a hand towards some cooking utensils that had clearly been left by whoever had once lived there - who was possibly buried beneath the floorboards for all he knew - and had fingertips to it when Drew McIntyre strode back, not quite seeing what he was reaching for in the half-light, but clearly super keen on his new brainwave of throttling Dean. The big hands wrapped in around his windpipe and squeezed intently and instantly a pressure blew up in Dean's head. In response he scrabbled even harder over the counter, although it probably looked like a death flail instead. Dolph was laughing.

"This is what you get Dean, this is what you get for putting me away. Five years I dreamed of this for, five long _years_ man."

" _Mmph_."

Behind him Seth and Roman were going half crazy having to watch and hear as their brother was killed but not able to _get_ there and actually _help_ him. But Dean however had a plan, so as his fingers enclosed around the firm wooden handle he rose his knee up into Drew's open crotch and then listened to the bellow of pain that followed.

Dean grinned,

"Not such a freakin' tough guy now, huh man?"

" _Roar_."

Dean was still leant backwards over the countertop, so as the meaty fist launched towards his head for another hit, he rolled out of the way and let it hammer into the beechwood before turning like a flash and then bringing the steak knife down fast and right into the tightly curled fingers with relish.

"Ha..."

It was a weird thing stabbing a man, as Dean found out in a bizarre sort of slow mo. Like, it was hard but at the same time a whole lot _easier_ than he had figured to slide razor sharp metal through muscle and skin. Or maybe it wasn't and it was simply his adrenaline because holy _hell_ did he have a lot of that. So much so in fact that by the time he had finished, the knife was wedged in both the hand _and_ the wood effectively pinning the bigger man to it like an angry, six foot tall, moustached _shish kebab_.

"ARGH."

Dean actually winced a little bit for him, but not for long.

"Next time asshole, leave my brothers alone,"

He was actually feeling pretty smug about the whole thing and so paused to throw in a cocky little shoulder roll, but which he evidently timed with all hell breaking loose behind him, in the form of both a mumble _and_ a furious bellow.

" _Mmph_."

"You god damn bastard…"

Huh?

Dean spun on his boot heels into an actual fucking _superkick_ as Dolph punted a shoe into the middle of his ribcage and sent him stumbling into a rickety bookshelf, which promptly fell to pieces around him as he landed on his ass in a rain shower of books. Which also, _newsflash_ were freaking _painful_.

"You need to pay Ambrose," Dolph bellowed from in front of him, his scraggly blonde hair flapping in disarray as he swung in a fist to follow up the boot heel, "You have to pay for what you did to me."

" _Mmph_ …"

Dean picked a book up, flashing a hand out and grabbing the first thing his nails scrabbled across. It was a hefty old tome with a badly torn cover and yellowed discoloration from obviously having been well thumbed. Not that Dean was interested in reading it, since instead he held it up in front of his face like a shield and then listened to the sound of Dolph's knuckles thudding into it and the crunch of breaking bones.

"Fuck. Damn it, _fuck_ …"

Dolph wheeled away again cradling his fingers and in the break Dean turned the book back over again.

Huh.

He was holding _War and Peace_ which he guessed seemed pretty fitting and so climbing back up unsteadily he wielded it again, levering it like some sort of baseball bat or something and creaming Dolph in the face as he turned back round. Blood sprayed up from Dolph's nose like a geyser, which was gross but actually kind of super cool too, as Dean noticed like a five year old.

" _Mmph_ …"

Seth was still fidgeting and as Dean looked up he could see both of his brothers going wild. He turned and _oh crap_ Drew McIntyre almost had the knife loose, which he was pulling from his hand _and_ the hardwood countertop, blinking tears from his eyes and fighting back the agony.

Dean had a feeling that the revenge for having stabbed him would probably be brutal and to much worse things than just his hand. At the same time though Dolph was recovering from the face smash and had started to charge towards him with a bark of pure rage. Dean was caught smack in the middle of an asshole sandwich and for a second his options seemed limited at best.

Or not…

Because off to one side of the kitchen and right behind Drew were a set of wooden French doors, that were grimed up completely and super flimsy looking but there all the same.

Dean had to hold his nerve.

Beyond him he could see both Seth and Roman blinking, clearly wondering why the hell he was glued to the spot when one kidnapping asshole was rampaging bull like towards him while the other one was a blink away from pulling free a knife. In response they started to struggle and rock harder.

Dean grinned at them smugly.

"Hey guys, watch this."

He waited until Dolph was almost buried headfirst into him, at which point he briefly faltered on his genius plan, but then at that exact second he heard a grunt from behind him as Drew finally managed to pull loose the knife and at which point the copper blonde threw himself sideways.

"Fuck…"

He hit a table and crashed onto the floor in a clumsier move than the graceful somersault he had expected, but then hardly seemed the point as there was a loud noise behind.

 _CRASH_.

Nearly half blinded by the blood from his nostrils and a furious red most, Dolph had been unable to pump the brakes and so had barrelled headfirst into his newly one handed partner with such a head of steam that he had blasted them both back. The noise had been from their explosion through the French doors and as glass fragments blasted everywhere, Dean swiftly covered up his head, then stayed down for a second until everything went silent.

Like dead _dead_ silent.

Dean popped back up like a prairie dog and then surveyed the damage with a cautious looking wince face.

Yep.

Well, the good news was his plan, had worked. Beyond him through the tattered remains doorway Drew and Dolph were sprawled on the floor, both of them having knocked themselves into unconsciousness and splattered with blood from various grazes and wounds.

Pulling himself up on the edge of the table he blinked down at them just long enough to see their chests rise and fall, before turning back into the room with his thumbs up and a beam on his face.

"S' okay, they're alive."

His brothers were staring back in a relieved sort of horror and realizing that both of them were still tied up like turkeys, Dean picked up the knife that Drew had dropped in mid flight and then stumbled towards them. It was covered in blood spores but he figured they wouldn't mind if it got them free again and so fell to his knees beside them to saw through the bonds, while talking and babbling at a million miles an hour.

Because _fuck_.

"Did they hurt you guys? Jesus. How did they get you? Nearly had a fuckin' _heart_ _attack_ when I answered the phone. An' where the fuck did that big fucker come from?"

He freed up their hands and in response to getting loose again, both of his brothers pulled the duct tape from their lips, before bending to unwind the sticky lengths around their ankles that had been keeping on the chairs for the previous three hours.

Roman growled a word out,

"Babe…"

But Dean kept on talking as he hacked through the last of the tape and sat back, because honestly the adrenaline was still kind of pumping and giving him a bout of real verbal diarrhea.

"Guess we'd better call the freakin' cops up here or somethin', an' probably _like_ , a freakin' _ambulance_ as well. Not that I'd care if the fuckers kinda _bled_ to death an'…" Dean stood up a little too fast and then blinked in confusion as all of his faculties hit his boot soles, then swayed as his vision spotted hard then went black. Probably because of the whole punch to the face thing, or from when he had crashed into the shelf, _or_ been thrown headfirst into the doorway, or possibly all three knowing his luck, "Oh fuck."

He felt himself falling - probably back into the bookshelf - only luckily big hands swooped in around his arms and caught him swiftly.

"Hey, take it easy uce."

"Roman?"

He blinked as _more_ hands except bonier and a little more frantic hooked around his bicep over on his _other_ side and then pulled him back upright. His legs were still shot though and so he crumpled to the floorboards in a controlled sort of collapse that his brothers helped slow and then sat for a second as his vision came back, partly. His brothers were crouched on either side, blinking in concern like so many times before that and knowing it he grinned at them clumsily,

"Hey asshats."

"Hey yourself," Roman raised a brow back fondly before the moment was interrupted by Seth rooting through his hair, like some sort of angry macaque and grousing bitchily, which Dean _liked_ weirdly because it meant the man was fine. It meant that _both_ of them were fine.

His best friends and brothers.

"God damn it Dean. I _told_ you not to come here. I _told_ you the two of us were going to be fine and not to drive out here to play the damn hero…"

Dean blinked back at him,

"But…"

"So then what did you do? You came out here anyway, _on your own_ , like a moron to confront some freaking lunatic with no backup or help. Why the hell did you do it you idiot?"

"'Cos he had my boys," it was a simple response and in return he felt the big palm of Roman squeeze in tighter from where it was clamped hard across his shoulder bone, like some sort of brotherly Samoan warming pad. Seth blew a grunt out but then prodded between the blonde curls at a point that clearly looked different from the rest and which instantly threw up a stab of pure agony like someone was drilling clean into his head. Dean screwed his face up and cursed, "Ow, _fuck_ man."

"I knew it," Seth fired back at him, "You've got a lump the size of an egg, so I guess we should be lucky you're so freaking hard headed."

Dean frowned,

" _Hey_ …"

"But thanks for coming for us babe."

Because leave it to Roman to express what they were feeling. Seth too, even though he had a horrible way of saying thanks. Back when the three of them had first been a unit, Seth's panicking and bitching had driven Dean mad, but at some point he couldn't even really put a pin in, it had simply become a plain expression of love and how their tech man responded to nearly losing his brothers.

Dean grinned fondly.

 _Idiot_.

"No problem uce," he shrugged, leaning back against the busted up bookshelf as his bubbling adrenaline started to wear off and besides which it was still pretty early in the morning. Dawn was beginning to peep through the trees, "But at some point I'm gonna have to stop savin' your asses."

" _Our_ asses?"

Seth went off like a bomb and then promptly launched into a fifteen minute monologue listing all the times where it was _Dean_ who'd been the pawn, which were many and varied and bizarrely sort of _comforting_. Or at least the nasally voice was.

Because everything was good.

Kind of.

"And not forgetting that freaking circus tiger _and_ the time you got carjacked…"

Yep.

Everything was good.

* * *

 **There you go, big hero Dean time and I actually enjoyed writing Ziggler and McIntyre, also I feel vaguely topical for once since they're still around (sort of).**

 **Okay, next week the story (sort of) of how we incorporate Dean's new haircut in this AU world! Drama, drama, drama!**


	41. Never Be Lonely

**Right, so full confession, I lied to you last week, this story is** _ **not**_ **about Dean getting short hair because I forgot all about this little ditty where he still has his locks, so this one comes first. Short hair next week. But, on the plus side I do love this one, so I hope you do too. Brother fluff all the way!**

 **Rebel8954, Yep, Hope definitely has her uses as a guard cat. She's a good girl really. And yes, I imagine that Stephanie only gets hammered on the really good stuff! Short haired Dean has totally grown on me. It can still be ruffled!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, I'd imagine that Dolph and Drew saved Stephanie from probably embarrassing herself, or more likely saved Dean from having to go over to her house and hold her hair back as she spewed into a bowl!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Yay! Glad you liked it!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Ah Jerry Lawler, I'm going to have to put him in one of these at some point! No, I always planned to have a sneak peak of Steph drunk because I wanted to and there wasn't enough to make a whole chapter, so in she went. Oh and you were right about Roman, he did inherent Cena-esque super powers!**

 **Skovko, Yeah, I sometimes feel that Steph needs a little love and understanding too. So this story really takes that and runs with it...sort of. You'll see!**

 **Mandy, Well, no Dean with short hair in this one (next week) BUT Steph is back and having a hard time keeping our boys in order, so hopefully that will tide you over okay. Hope the job interviews are going okay. They can be stressful, but they're always a good chance to prove yourself too. Got my fingers crossed for you!**

 **Cheryl24, Maybe I should let Dean go fishing in one of the chapters and it's just twelve pages of him drinking a beer and chilling? Hmmm. Nah! But I might take it easy on him at some point!**

 **Minnie1015, Yep, Dean does save the day sometimes, when I get the urge to write him all big and tough! Loved writing Dolph and Drew, they were a lot more fun than I thought they'd be (sorry guys!) Loved writing this one too. It's something a tiny bit different (I think…)**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Don't worry, you get a late reprieve on Dean's hair this week, he gets the chop next week! Besides, he'll still be our crazy, quirky, irreverent boy!**

 **Time for Steph to get a headache...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Never Be Lonely**

 **Time Remaining: 72 Hours**

There were times in life when Stephanie regretted never having children. Regretted that she would never get to sing them to sleep, or tuck them up in bed, or get to shape how their minds worked, or see them as they grew —

Then there were times she didn't mind. Or at least didn't feel like she was missing out on anything. Like there for example. Like right then and there as she gripped so tight to the wheel of her town car that she felt like her knuckles were going to pop off and as the glow of the street lamps shone up three guilty faces tightly packed on the backseat.

Her operatives; Ambrose, Rollins and Reigns. Not that she could even bring herself to _look_ at them since she was that god damn furious with them.

Idiots.

"A brawl? You were arrested for a brawl? The three top guys in the whole city and you got arrested for fighting in a _bar_? Like tearaway teenagers who don't know any better? I mean what were you _thinking_? No, on second thoughts, don't answer that, because obviously not a single _one_ of you _was_ thinking. I mean do you have any _idea_ how embarrassing this is for me? _The commissioner_ to be called in the middle of the night and asked to come and collect her secret taskforce because they happen to be _scaring_ all the other locked up drunks and keep asking the desk sergeant to bring them tequila…"

Dean raised a hand,

"Uh actually boss, it was a round a' gin gordons never had one before now, but I always liked the name. Tequila's too _salty_."

" _Ambrose_."

Steph barked the name out in fury and then growled as somebody beeped from the car behind, since at some point while she had been shouting at her lawmen the stop lights overhead had turned back to green. She hit the gas but then braked as they launched back into red again.

Damn.

The car from behind angrily beeped her a second time then shouted something hugely unflattering. Ambrose rolled down the window and poked his head out.

Uh oh…

"Hey man you wanna try comin' over here an' sayin' that? Take it easy asshole, we got a freakin' lady drivin' here."

" _Ambrose_."

"Cool it down babe," Roman rumbled at him fondly, petting him then leaning over to calmly raise the window back up, which thankfully shut out the cursing filtering in from the car behind them and made their frazzled commissioner blink a little in relief.

Not that she was surprised by the reaction, since Reigns had always been the older brother of the three and easily the most even tempered of them also, so of course he would know how to help calm down Dean and on the very rare occasions when it was _Reigns_ who lost his senses, the the same was true for the others in reverse. The three men just _got_ each other and had each others' backs always. Which was probably why they had been brawling at all. Because no doubt one of them had been pushed or offended and the others had reacted.

Damn them.

Damn them all.

"Look Stephanie, we're _sorry_ okay boss?" Rollins offered, from the seat on the other side in the back as Dean turned and then gestured crudely through the tinted rear window, "We never exactly _meant_ for it go down like this."

Stephanie snorted,

 _Ha_.

"Enlighten me Rollins, what _precisely_ is that answer supposed to mean? That you never meant to brawl, or never meant to get arrested?"

"Get arrested…"

"Brawl."

They spoke at once with both Rollins and Reigns favoring the latter _correct_ option and Ambrose on the other hand quite clearly not. Although on hearing the fact that his brothers had said the opposite he cleared his throat roughly and then amended it.

"Fuck, uh, I mean _brawl_."

It was official she was surrounded by idiots including the one in the car right behind, who actually overtook and roared off as the lights changed, collectively flipping them the bird as he went. Ambrose leaned in through the seats with a grumble,

"Gun it boss, because m' pretty sure we can still catch him up," instead however Stephanie flicked on the blinker and turned, driving the long sleek car from the broad three laned stretch and following the lesser road that snaked beside the river and where the biggest and best homes in the city were found. Ambrose sat back in a despondent looking half slump and then muttered in her direction just loud enough so she could hear, "Killjoy."

"Easy babe."

Predictably Roman was there again, chuckling lightly though which wasn't the biggest help and in response to the performance Stephanie lifted a probing eyebrow and…

Yep.

It was official. She was their parent.

Dear god.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you Dean," she offered back sarcastically, "But I would personally have thought you'd had enough fighting for tonight, unless you were hoping to be arrested for a _second_ time and break the city record for sheer dumbassery in one night?"

"Hey…" Dean frowned at that but it was Seth who spoke up for him, or rather _all_ of them as he spread his hands testily,

"Look boss, come on I mean we _said_ we were sorry about a million times now and besides it wasn't like we went _looking_ to start a fight. The Big Man bumped into some guy and spilt his drink some. He tried to apologize but the damn swing for him and the next thing his five drunken idiot friends are joining in too, so what? We should have just let them team him?"

Stephanie grunted.

Did she know it or did she know it? Because of _course_ the damn fight had been a _one for all_ thing.

Sometimes she swore it was like her taskforce were co dependent or god damn joined at their troublesome hips. Not that she disliked it. The truth was she had sort of _missed_ it in the years that had followed their spectacular break up and being able to bring it and bring _them_ back together was something of which she had always been proud. Ambrose and Rollins and Reigns _belonged_ together. Like Suplex City's own brand of Starsky and Starsky and Hutch. But sometimes their bond and their need to be together had unforeseen drawbacks. Like getting involved in barroom brawls for example and occasionally she wished the three of them were less _cemented_ and hung out less and…

 _Ping_.

Her blue green eyes lit up in a heartbeat as she suddenly landed on the perfect type of punishment for them, but not that she chose to share right away though as Instead she pulled onto the drive of a house and then killed the engine.

Roman cleared his throat,

"Uh…"

"Is there a problem?"

He paused,

"Not a problem, it's just we kind of _thought_ you were driving us home," he pointed out of the window towards the big red bricked beauty with the neatly pruned garden and the pilasters and she shrugged,

"So?"

"Boss this is _your_ home."

Bingo.

She nodded,

"Correct. I said I was driving you home, but what I _didn't_ say was _whose_ home I was driving to. Because in _actual_ fact I meant mine, since it's two in the morning and I'm not a damn taxi," plucking her purse up she slid from the town car and slammed the door shut in time to hear Ambrose laugh, although he wouldn't be chuckling for very much longer,

"Ha. Hey, she's got you there man."

"Damn…"

Folding her arms tightly like a long suffering parent she waited for her operatives to pile from the car and then blinked at them as they stood on her driveway like children. Except make that bruised and _bloodied_ looking ones. Reigns had a bust lip and Rollins had a shadow starting to slowly build up beneath his eye and all of them had red and purple knuckles from all the punches. Not to mention the fact that Ambrose was holding his ribs. Although they had taken on _and beaten_ five guys between them so perhaps she should have been more impressed by that?

Nope.

"Is there a reason you're still stood on my driveway?" she offered instead raising a brow at them, "Go home."

Dean blinked,

"Really? Like, that's it? No yellin' or punishments? We just like, freakin' get to go home?" Based on the way that Seth and Roman were blinking also, all three of her men had clearly been waiting for her to blow or possibly flay them alive or even fire them and their confusion was almost a gift in itself. To make it worse she beamed back at them sweetly.

The poor fools.

"Now why in the world would I punish you gentlemen? After everything you've done these past few years for our good town?"

Dean frowned at her,

"Uh…"

She carried on,

"In fact if _anything_ I think maybe what happened tonight was a cry for help. Maybe you're trying to tell me that I've been pushing you too hard and that you need to have a break from the stress and the paperwork," she paused for a second like she was thinking through her options, then shrugged, "You know what gentlemen, I'm going to give you three days off. Three whole days free starting tomorrow. Go out have fun and try forget about work, because it's not like the cases are going to go away right?"

Seth coughed,

"Hold on a second. Are you serious? _That's_ our god damn punishment for getting arrested? Giving us three days off?" blinking in confusion he glanced towards his brothers who looked both as puzzled but also as hopeful as he was. Steph grinned,

"Of _course_. It's the least I can do for you, now go on you crazy kids go and enjoy your paid leave," she flapped them away and they beamed in response to her, turning to head off down the long sweeping drive.

"Hey, thanks boss."

"Fuck…"

"Three whole days off brothers, man I am hitting up the gym this time for sure _and_ the jacuzzi and calling my babies and having a barbecue and…"

Behind them Stephanie coughed and the three of them stopped and then turned back towards her with a growing sense of dread rising up through their bones, which grew as they took in her Cheshire cat expression. Because that was never a very good sign.

"But there is one more _teensy tiny_ littlething though," she held up her fingers to show a minute amount and then snarled at them, "The three of you are not allowed to be in contact. No text messages, no phone calls, no meeting up for brawls. I don't even want your eyes meeting across a crowded party, because if they do I'll find out and I will bury you all. Mark my words I will drown you in so much damn paperwork that you three will be getting hand cramp for the rest of your natural lives. I will rain down so many files and research and archives that what happened to _Pompeii_ will seem mild compared to you. Do I make myself clear?"

Her operatives gaped at her,

"But…"

"Come on…"

"Can she do that?"

In response she smirked and then turned towards the house, striding up onto the porch steps and then opening the door up before pausing for a second snarl,

"Oh you bet I can. Three days gentlemen starting from tomorrow. So you'd better get your chit chattering over tonight, because as soon as the sun peeks up over that horizon the three of you are officially on a brother time out ban. Now excuse me boys because some of us need our beauty sleep," then with that she stepped away and was gone, slamming the door and fast sealing their punishment.

For the next seventy two hours they were officially on their own.

 **Time Remaining: 63 Hours**

There were many things that Stephanie McMahon loved about being Commissioner. For example she loved the respect the title gave and the way that she had the last say in policing matters. But she did _not_ love the endless ditchwater dull meetings and _especially_ not the godawful neighborhood ones.

Like the one that she was currently trying to smile through and had been for the last tedious hour and a half, while the middle aged woman in pearls and blonde hair in front of her read out a full list of all the evident _unknown folk_ that had been noticed on her street in the past month or possibly _decade_.

Ugh.

Steph cleared her throat and then tried to interrupt. Unsuccessfully as it turned out.

"Okay Mrs Runnels that information is certainly useful to know, but now perhaps we can move onto more _pressing_ matters…"

Nope.

"October seventeenth, five thirty five in the evening," Terri Runnels carried on, raising her voice and then continuing to run a long false nail along the paper onto which she had scribbled her never ending list of notes, "Black man spotted going into a neighbor's house. On closer inspection, it _was_ the neighbor…"

Oh dear god.

It was official. Steph was going to die there and they would find her withered body leaning over the desk with the overly primped for her age Terri Runnels still blathering away mindlessly,

"October seventeenth, seven o'clock. Pizza delivery man seen delivering pizzas. Looked suspicious."

Stephanie was about to damn well scream, although happily she was suddenly interrupted by her cell phone which began to buzz frantically beside her on the desk and actually made the bottle blonde pause briefly and look up from her list.

 _Yes_.

Steph put on a remorseful face,

"Mrs Runnels I apologize but I really should get that," she slid from her chair and fought down a smug grin as her assistant and deputy shot super dirty looks at her. She smiled at them, "Everyone, do excuse me and please, carry on."

Beaming she swiped her cell up from the table and then crossed the room briskly in case the god damn ringing stopped, which was why she then picked up even before she was out of there and sort of halfway through the doors.

"Commissioner McMahon speaking."

" _Okay boss_ ," the voice on the other end of the line grumbled out at her, sounding huskier than she was used to but unmistakable nonetheless, " _Help me out here. Do I go for the waffles with the bacon and the syrup, or do I go for the bacon, egg and cheese sandwich instead. Because like, m' hungry but m' not sure how hungry an' m' holdin' the freakin' line up."_

"Ambrose?"

" _Uh huh?_ " he offered back, like maybe he thought she was asking a question instead of frowning in confusion.

 _Both_ maybe.

"Dean? Are you seriously calling from the counter in a diner to tell me you have no idea what to eat?"

Because she was stood outside the boardroom in headquarters, surrounded by people who considered her the boss, she covered the phone with her hand and hissed the words out, since frankly they sounded strange to even her own well honed ears, let _alone_ to anyone else's.

" _Uh yeah_ ," Dean shot back like it was a normal thing to do, or else perhaps like he felt she should have known that, " _Now come on already woman, waffles or breakfast sandwich here?_ "

"I…" she blinked.

Because for pretty much the first time Stephanie McMahon had no clue of what to say, or why in the hell he was even trying to ask her when he had certainly never called with breakfast choices before and besides, how the hell did he _usually_ pick anyway if…

Oh. Oh good grief.

"For god sakes Ambrose," she hissed at him, "Please don't tell me this is because of the brother ban. Do Rollins and Reigns tell you what to _eat_ most mornings?"

Dean huffed back at her in outrage,

" _What? No_."

"Because it _sounds_ like they do."

" _They don't tell what to eat Steph. They just_ …" he paused briefly, " _Like freakin' help me make a choice. M' good not when there are too many god damn freakin' choices an' people pushin' behind in line. I get anxiety okay? Besides, Seth knows about nutrition an' that crap, an' Roman just always kind of knows what I want. But since m' not allowed to freakin' talk to them for three days, you have to help since technically this is your fault an'…god damn it dude m' choosin' stop pushin' me."_

"Ambrose?"

" _Standin' back there with your briefcase an' your stupid_ …"

"Ambrose."

" _What_?" he barked as tensions hit bursting point over his holding the whole place up like an idiot. Because was it _so_ hard for him not to talk to Roman and Seth?

"Go with the god damn waffles you moron," she snapped at him as her assistant prized open the boardroom door and then made a silent but desperate plea for her to join them and presumably take control of Mrs Runnels and her list. She held up a finger in response to the begging in a _one minute_ gesture as Dean huffed on the phone and then promptly took the alternative option.

Because _of course_ he did. Idiot.

" _M' gonna have the sandwich_ ," he grumbled out as Stephanie rubbed her brow feeling suddenly weary, although on the plus side at least the decision had been made.

"Fantastic," she deadpanned back, "Now is there anything else you need from me or can I get back to the important business meeting you broke up? I mean are you dressed, or do you need help choosing a t-shirt? Do you need me to remind you to go take a bath, or when to breathe maybe since Reigns and Rollins aren't there to help you?"

" _Funny Steph, real freakin' funny_ ," he rasped, because how was he to know her important business meeting _wasn't_ important? She sniffed,

"Okay hanging up now…"

" _Whoa, stop_."

For a second and possibly against her much _much_ better judgement, Commissioner Stephanie McMahon did just that and stopped with the cell against her cheek in bewilderment as though maybe her operative had something crucial to say, or had suddenly seen a criminal stood in line behind him or a million other things.

"Ambrose?"

" _Do I want coffee or tea with that, or, I dunno just like, a freakin' juice maybe?_ "

"Goodbye Ambrose."

 _Click_.

His boss hung up the phone and then turned around to head back into the boardroom trying to process that he had needed her help and to order a god damn _breakfast_ of all things. Could those three idiots really not do _anything_ on their own? Still at least Rollins and Reigns were clearly coping. Right?

"Ugh. Idiot," She said it again, then put her phone on silent and stepped back into the boardroom with a smile that she hoped looked convincing, "Okay now, so Mrs Runnels, where exactly had we got to?"

"November nineteenth, eleven twenty…."

Darn.

 **Time Remaining: 54 Hours**

 _Her heart almost burst through her chest as he kissed her, his moist lips burning with the heat of a million fires and with his hands on her arms then on the strings of her corset, which he ripped apart suddenly to expose her heaving breasts. She gasped but didnt stop him as his hands traced her navel, then down across the curve of her beautiful milky hips, before plunging ever lower right in between her dress folds and then up towards her trembling and pulsating…_

 _Ring ring._

"Damn…"

Pulling off her glasses with a grunt of frustration Stephanie banged the book shut then reached for her phone, which was nestled beside her hot cocoa on the nightstand. Because _god_ had she needed it after the day she'd been through, in between Runnels and police union meetings and Ambrose who had called her a further _four_ times, either to explain a documentary he'd been watching and once to ask what the word _extrapolate_ meant. Which was therefore she barked down the phone in frustration.

Lots and lots of it.

"For god sakes Ambrose, what is it _now_? Because I told you before I don't care about lemurs, or fruits bats _or_ sloths."

" _Uh, evening there boss._ "

"Reigns?"

" _Afraid so,_ " the big man chuckled back at her, " _But now let me guess here, uce has been calling you with random animal facts huh? Heh. Yeah, my boy does love himself a documentary. But hey consider yourself lucky he's not on one of those conspiracy ones, because let me tell you once he gets himself stuck one of those trains, he can keep on for days."_

Well that was perfect news. Steph made a mental note to block all calls from Ambrose for the remaining two days of their punishment clause, then cleared her throat and tried to sound professional and _not_ like she was reading a trashy romance book.

 _Ahem_.

"How can I help Reigns?"

He coughed a little,

" _Actually, I wanted to apologize again about last night and thank you for coming down to bail out our asses, which is probably a whole lot more than we deserved,_ " Stephanie snorted at that in agreement, because yes it damn well was, " _But I wanted to let you know that it's never going to happen again. You can believe that_."

"It better not had," Steph snapped in response, although frankly she was pleased he'd even bothered to apologize, unlike Ambrose who'd instead gone for a breakfast monologue.

Idiot.

Roman grunted,

" _Boss, you got the Reigns word on this and you can trust me when I say we never go back on that._ "

She nodded.

"Good. In that case then thank you. I appreciate you taking the trouble to call. Although now if that's all…" she tapered off with a hint of expectancy, because her cocoa was beginning to clump and go cold and besides which there was the problem of her well thumbed romance novel and what exactly Summer Rae and Fandango were up to next, not to mention where his hands had been heading in the first place _before_ the interruption.

" _Uh, yeah boss that's it. Except_ …" he paused.

"Except what Reigns?"

In the interim Stephanie had picked the book up again and was busily studying the hand drawn front cover, which was a painting of Fandango in a waistcoat with no shirt and which therefore meant that she was only half listening when he spoke again.

" _My kid aced her spelling test_."

"What?"

" _Got ten out ten and the best score in her in year group. Said the teacher was real proud of her,_ " Reigns blithely carried on, either not noting his boss' confusion or else not much caring, or possibly both, " _Plus my twins got their nursery reports back. Says they're coming along real well. I mean apart from being little hellraisers obviously, but then you know how kids are."_

She didn't really.

"Uh…" not even when it came to her brother and his children, because while loved her nephews she was not _good_ with kids.

Roman chuckled,

" _But yeah my baby girl is the smart one, even though she probably gets that from her mom, or maybe her uncle Seth. She gets her crazy from Uncle Ambrose."_

In spite of herself Steph laughed at that part, then absently reached out and hooked up her cocoa. Because hell, hearing Reigns talk about his family was _nice_ and especially since she had forgotten he was a father and that by proxy Ambrose and Rollins were uncles as well. No doubt he was itching to tell _them_ the good news, but couldn't because of the whole brother ban and so briefly Steph felt a tiny flicker of blame over it…before remembering the three of them had been _arrested for a brawl_ and so the punishment stood. But she couldn't help her smile though.

Damn it.

"They sound like very good kids. You must be pretty proud of them."

Roman beamed. Probably

" _Yeah. They're great. I mean what with the whole moving, then me coming back here and the divorce with their mother,_ " he tapered off at that and then cleared his throat like he was getting all emotional, " _I uh, I really lucked out with my kids."_

"I think they would say they lucked out with their father."

Oh god. Did she just say that? Barf.

" _I hope so,_ " Reigns rumbled back, sounding a little more himself which was a good thing, because the only thing she was less sure of than children was tears, " _Hey but thanks boss."_

"Of course," she snipped back at him, before clearing her throat briskly as her clock beeped the hour and reminded her that technically she was supposed to still be mad at him, not holding damn group therapy and besides, her bi monthly quota of human emotion was almost finished and so to that end she shifted in the bed and then huffed as she moved back into Commissioner bitch mode, "Now are we done? Because _some_ of us have had a busy day and by _some_ I mean me Reigns."

" _Reading you loud and clear boss_."

"Oh and remember," she snapped in a final bark of warning, "if you so much as _blink_ in the direction of your teammates in the next fifty nine hours then I will have your damn heads. This is still a punishment and I'm still your commissioner."

" _I know boss, but_ …"

 _Click_.

For the second time that day she hung up the phone on one of her operative then returned to her book with a bitter sounding and not to mention her new favorite word of the moment.

"Idiot."

Only that time she was talking about herself.

 **Time Remaining: 44 Hours**

By the time _Rollins_ got around to phoning her the next day, Stephanie was ready and waiting for his call. Even if he did ring a little earlier than she expected and right as she was taking her table at the club, where she liked to have breakfast every other Friday morning and where they laid the day's papers in a fan for her to scour and therefore get on top of any breaking news items...

Like for example her top team being arrested for being drunk. Except no. Luckily not though.

 _Ring ring._

On seeing who was calling, she answered one handed and then turned over a page, before clamping the cell phone beneath her chin super smugly and singing at him,

"Rollins, my what a surprise."

" _Stephanie I…_ "

"No, let me guess why you're phoning. Is it because you're standing in line in a diner and have absolutely no clue what to order to eat? Or are you watching a documentary you simply _have_ to share with me about about locusts or bald eagles or something dull. Am I right?"

Rollins paused,

" _No I…"_

"Oh," Steph interrupted, spearing a hunk of salmon and scrambled eggs on her fork and then using it to gesture like he was sitting in front of her, because bizarrely she was kind of enjoying herself, "So then in _that_ case you must have a relative somewhere who did really well in a spelling test last night and you just _had_ to tell someone and share the good news with them and…"

" _My_ _Great Aunt Josephine just died."_

"What?"

The eggs and salmon slid off her forkful and then fell back onto the plate as she blinked and as she tried to process what the hell she was hearing in terms of the news and his tone.

Oh crap.

Rollins sucked a breath in.

" _Mom and dad say it was peacefully in her sleep and we knew it was coming, but she's just always been there and so the thought of going home for Christmas and birthdays and then seeing that empty space is really…"_

Rollins tapered off and then blew out a sigh and a tiny little grunt noise, that could have been anything between frustration and a sob, but which they both knew would have been handled better by his teammates. Hell, Reigns would have pretty much swept him up into a hug and Ambrose would have probably peppered him with facts and random statements, if not about death then about ring tailed lemurs or bigfoot. But which would _still_ have been better than her.

God damn it.

"Rollins. _Seth_ , look…"

" _Shit_ ," he snorted awkwardly, " _Sorry for calling. I mean, I was going to call the big guy or Dean, only then I remembered the whole three day no contact and I guess I kind of panicked."_

Stephanie sighed,

"Go call them Seth."

" _Huh_?"

Biting her lip to stop from sighing, or possibly screaming, Stephanie repeated it evenly,

"You heard. I said call Reigns and Ambrose the brother ban is over. Call them and tell them to get their butts round to your place by order of the Police Chief Commissioner and besides, there's a good chance that Ambrose hasn't eaten breakfast. Oh and Reigns might want to tell you something nice about his kids," she waved a loose hand and then remembered he couldn't see it. Good.

Rollins meanwhile coughed,

" _You mean it_?"

"God damn it _yes_. I'm sorry for your loss, now go call your brothers."

" _Thank you Stephanie._ "

Rollins sounded sort of shocked, which she figured was probably the news of his auntie rather than the fact that she had actually been nice. Or possibly both.

"I'll see you three back at work on Tuesday," she offered out briskly as a figure stepped into the room and then waved at her across the sea of elegant cream clothed tables and exclusive clientele. Her father was there as was also the tradition since with their roles in the city they rarely had the chance for real father daughter time and so really on that front she envied her taskforce, always being together. Like they always _should_ have been.

" _Tuesday_?"

"Take an extra day off," she answered, "But make sure you're in all the earlier when you get back. Otherwise the paperwork threat still stands, you hear me?"

Rollins chuckled back at her.

Damn.

" _Okay I promise Steph."_

"So then why are you still on the line?"

" _Because I…"_

"No."

 _Click_.

For the third time in two days — or technically _one_ day — she hung up on her final operative in a bingo card clean sweep and so was right in the middle of blowing a sigh out when her father sauntered over and bent to kiss her on the cheek, before unbuttoning his grey twill jacket and sitting opposite to start pulling the newspapers towards him with a frown, or like father like daughter.

"Hold morning kitten, is everything okay?"

Steph nodded at him,

"Yep."

"How are our boys?"

He was talking about their taskforce and in response she raised her eyebrows up, not completely sure how she was meant to reply to him considering the arrest, the calls and the loss. But in the end she merely smiled in response — _those idiots —_ then speared up some more salmon.

"They're going to be fine."

 **Time Remaining: 0 Hours**

Her heels clicked loudly on the concrete of the basement and then clomped as she climbed up the dust covered stairs and into the bright beams of light in the warehouse where three men were at their desks and evidently hard at work.

Idiots.

 _Her_ idiots.

"Gentlemen," she greeted, watching as each of them spun around her way but paying particular attention to Rollins. He looked a little weary but otherwise okay. Evidently knowing the real reason she was looking, Ambrose put a supportive hand out and patted the younger man on the chest and he mustered a smile back because…

Yep.

She had made the right call in prematurely ending the infernal brother ban and letting the pair of them sweep back in to support him. Go her. Card carrying employer of the year.

Holding up some files she waved them in front of them and then slapped them down onto the table with a bang, before tapping a fingernail against the neat printed typeface, which was her customary way of handing the team a new case.

"Looks like AJ Styles has been up to his old tricks. This time trading in stolen cars, which have been linked to a spate of high end uptown burglaries. I need you three on it."

Ambrose nodded back at her,

"I'll call Bo."

"Ugh."

Stephanie ignored the wry snort Rollins offered, which she assumed was some sort of mutter of grief and in return Reigns leaned over and kneaded his shoulder while throwing their boss a reassuring look.

 _He's fine._

"Um," Stephanie paused momentarily then nodded, "In that case gentlemen, that will be all."

She turned to click away from them but then stopped on the threshold in an uncustomary dither she wasn't sure how to end. Because she was Commissioner McMahon, not some teenager and so to that end she sucked a breath in and then turned back around.

Reigns frowned at her,

"Boss?"

"I just wanted to say," she offered, in brisk clipped tones, "That _even though_ I think you idiots spend _way_ too much time together, I'm glad you have each other. That's important with what we do. But if you ever _ever_ get your idiots selves arrested when it's not part of a case, then I will do more than just ban calls. I will send you all to different corners of the planet, no, different parts of the _solar_ _system_. Do I make myself clear? And I won't lose a second of sleep over it either. Mark my words."

"Fuck…"

"Uh, he means consider them marked," Reigns offered back, over Dean's huffed our bark of a curse word and keeping his hand on the back of Seth's nape.

Stephanie nodded,

"Good."

Then she turned from the workspace, hiding a smile of fondness and clomped back down the stairs and through the keypad door back out to her waiting towncar, while the three beleaguered faces sat in silence and watched her go.

It took a few seconds, but as soon as they heard the engine and watched the car pull away on the monitor screen, they all sat back and blew long breaths out.

Dean chuckled,

"Hey, do you think she suspects?"

"That Great Aunt Jo was my parent's pet goldfish?" Seth shrugged, "Probably not and hey, I mean _technically_ that's on her, because she never, at any point asked me _who_ Great Aunt Jo was. If she had then I would totally have told her."

Dean blinked,

"But like, she _did_ die right?"

Seth nodded,

"Yep. Mom came down in the morning and there she was floating in the top of the bowl and I mean, they'd had that thing since I was a teenager. She was part of the family man."

Roman grinned,

"Hey look, _however_ it happened, I'm just glad to have my brothers back."

Dean snorted,

"Me too, I mean, I barely fuckin' _ate_ , because I couldn't figure out what had calories an' protein an' all that other shit you keep talkin' about," he shrugged, "I mean I just had like, takeout pizza an' beer mostly."

Seth rolled his brown eyes,

"Sounds terrible."

"It fuckin' was."

In response Roman chuckled at them both super fondly and then slung an arm around each of the smaller men in turn, before tousling their hair to various reactions and then grinning like an idiot.

"It's good to be back."

* * *

 **Oh those boys. Seth is so naughty. But what can I say? They want to be together!**

 **Okay, NEXT WEEK we have our Deano with short hair.**


	42. Conscripted

**So, NOW we have the story of how Dean gets short hair. Or not really the story of how, more like why from now on he's only going to have short hair. Eh, read it, hopefully it will make more sense than I am...I hope (crosses fingers!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Those boys are very naughty to Mama Steph, although really she should know better than trying to split them up for any length of time. Our boys needs to be together (which I'm clinging into in real life as well, because a girl can dream, right?!)**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you!**

 **Cheryl24, Steph looking after Roman's kids is a cute idea. Although I'm not sure who would be more emotionally scarred from it by the end! The same would also apply to an interaction between Stephanie and Bo (who might as well be a child!)**

 **Mandy, The sun is shining here too (but only because it hailed on me earlier when I was walking the dog so swings and roundabouts I suppose!) Did you hear back from your interview? I agree about their friendship, I'm so glad these three crazy idiots came together, in real life and here!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Glad you liked the last one. I just liked the idea of Steph figuring they would be less trouble split up, only to find they're worse. She's like the reluctant mother of triplets! Guess you were right about Roman wrestling at Fastlane too. Don't worry, I'm sure he (and the doctors) know what he's doing. Go Roman!**

 **Rebel8954, Agreed, just when you've got into the mood of a story and can picture it in your head the phone rings, or the doorbell rings etc. Very frustrating. Especially if it's the sort of *ahem* reading that Stephanie was doing in that last chapter! I do love a trashy romance!**

 **Skovko, They definitely got the better of her last time. I ove writing stories where they're all one big crazy but unmistakeable family though. Big benign grandad Vince and stressed mother Stephanie with her rambunctious kids. God only knows what Bo is though! Second cousin twice removed?!**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Awwl, glad you liked it. I always enjoy having them stress Stephanie out. Because as much as they annoy her, she loves them too (not that she would ever actually say that however!)**

 **Minnie1015, I always loved Steph. I mean, I love her as a bad guy, but I love writing her frosty but with a heart of gold too. Oh and yes, in this world she loves reading some trashy erotica at night (the Summer and Fandango series being her favourite, lol!) A girl has got to unwind after all!**

 **Bye bye long hair...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Conscripted**

Dean with short hair had been hard to get used to. Or else _would_ have been were it not for the case, which was frankly so fraught and god damn never ending that Roman and Seth had barely thought the change through, beyond the first time they had seen him stood in front of them when he had snuck out of the barracks in the middle of the night.

He had looked sheepish though. Usually sheepish.

"So, what d' ya make of the freakin' buzz cut? Because weirdly I don't hate it as fuckin' much as I thought I would, even though my head gets real _cold_ now."

He had scrubbed a hand through his brand new lack of follicles as if to prove the point that his tresses were no longer there and Roman had been _settled_ to see it all tousled, because it still make his Ambrose look familiarly unkempt. Good. He had nodded.

"I think it looks fine babe."

"Besides," Seth had added in a suitably hushed tones since they were hunkered beside the chain link fence of the perimeter trying not to draw the attention of the guards, "It's not like you can't grow it again when we're done here."

Dean had shrugged,

"Maybe."

But it was obvious he had liked the fuzz. Not that he would ever have tried it himself of course, had he not been undercover on the local army base, trying to figure a whole roll call of accidents, including drownings, a hanging and a gruesome exposure death which had happened among newly signed recruits over the mo this and which had finally been passed over for The Shield boys to sleuth through with the help of the Roadblock County Police and the latter point _also_ being the reason why Captain Corbin was squeezed in with them in the truck as they listened to the feed coming back from Dean's earpiece with bated breath and a _buttload_ of worry on top.

Something was going down.

" _Hey freakin' let go of me. The fuck is your problem man?_ "

Roman winced then looked to Seth as their teammate's ragged voice grumbled through the hidden mike thread. Not that it was surprising Dean sounded out of breath, since he had basically been hauled out of his bed in the barracks in the middle of the night which had woken them _all_ up and in the worst kind of way too.

Corbin blinked,

"Do we know what's happening? Wait, has he said the code word yet? Because he needs to say the code word before we can go in there."

Roman ignored him pointedly,

"Babe?"

"Dean?" Seth offered, turning the volume up higher in the hopes that it would possibly drown Baron Corbin out, although maybe the word drown wasn't the _best_ to use in hindsight, given what they already knew about the case and the fact that they could hear the running water in the background, "Can you tell us what's going on man?"

"Uce?"

There was the sound of low pitched grunt, which both of them knew in a heartbeat was a Dean grunt and which implied he had been abruptly dropped to his knees by something or _someone_.

Damn.

"Tell him he has to say the codeword."

"Shut up already man."

"Babe?"

" _Private Moxley._ _Heh. Well, well, well_ ," a voice rang out in low gruff tones, but with a chuckle that sounded smug and overly proud and which they knew in a beat belonged to the man who ran the base camp, or at least the day to day handling of the men. Sergeant Slaughter. Because _that_ wasn't a red flag. Dean had even laughed at it when the folder had been pushed their way by an ever arms folded and darkly frowning Stephanie,

"Is something funny Ambrose?"

He had grinned,

"Oh come on. _Sergeant Slaughter_? I mean case closed, he freakin' did it."

On balance it certainly seemed like he had, but of course without proof of how or _why_ he had done it their taskforce and Corbin's men were all still in the dark. Hence why Dean needed to get a confession, say the freaking codeword and get the hell out of there. Except easier said than done on both of those as usual. Roman rocked forwards towards the mike then sucked a breath in as Dean coughed a little, like he was winded perhaps?

" _Look man, I mean Sarge. What the hell is goin' on here?"_

" _Silence_."

Slaughter's shout nearly blew their eardrums out and Seth cursed and then turned the dial back down again as all three of them jumped and probably so did Dean too. Footsteps crunched closer on the discreetly hidden microphone and in response to them Dean's own panted breaths were drowned out, as someone with a loudly whistling nose leaned in close to him.

Roman grit his teeth.

" _Private Moxley_ ," Slaughter growled, " _You have been charged with taking extra food rations without authorization."_

" _I wha_ — ,"

" _How do you plead to the charge? Guilty or not guilty_?"

" _Freakin' not guilty_ ," Dean barked back with heat, " _Besides, the food here tastes like garbage I wouldn't freakin' give it to a bunch of starvin' dogs. But now lemme guess here, you already knew that. Because this is all part of some weird power trip an' that's why you got Curly, Moe an' freakin' Larry to drag me out here to the workshop right? So you can be a dick or whatever?"_

Seth nodded,

"Nice work, okay man received. There are three of them with Slaughter and you're in the vehicle workshop. That right?"

 _Ahem_.

Dean let out a cough, which was a simple and well used code between the three of them, although not the precious word that Corbin wanted to hear, since his programming didn't allow him to move without it and…

" _Get him up,"_ Slaughter yelled and there was another grunt over the mike as Dean was hauled roughly back onto his feet, which made Roman ball his fists up fiercely because people had touched his brother and now those people were dead. Not that Dean wasn't trying to fight it or get the confession as he was dragged to god knew where. And why was that water still running in the background?

" _Is that what you did to those recruits who wound up dead? That's right asshole, I heard the stories. Did they_ _ **not**_ _steal shit too_?"

" _Shut your damn mouth_."

Dean chuckled,

" _I knew it._ _ **Fuck**_ _. How did you do it an' what the hell did those poor bastards do to you_?"

Roman winced,

"Babe, hey, slow it down a little," because the last thing they needed was Slaughter getting suspicious or thinking he could possibly smell some sort of a rat, since he still had Dean and three men at his bidding who could do a lot of damage before their asses could clear house and no way in hell did Roman or Seth want to hear that. Not that Slaughter was an idiot as it turned out.

" _Listen boy, you have no clue who you're messing with_."

Dean snorted,

" _Please. You mean a sad ass baldin' dude who gets his kicks from makin' guys scream for mercy, then trust me, I know_."

" _Dunk him_ ," Slaughter shouted out and in response Seth frowned and then looked to Roman as they mouthed the crucial word in unison.

 _Dunk_?

" _Ho fuck_ …," Dean barked followed by the sound of loud splashing and a low panicked noise like someone struggling for breath. Roman felt his heart turn over in his ribcage as he and Seth gaped in realization of the fact and the knowledge that Dean was being held _underwater_ with three men on him and no chance of busting out. Scraping off his headphones he launched to his feet again only to find a hand on his arm.

"Hey stop. Remember now," Corbin offered blankly, "He needs to say the codeword."

Seth scowled,

"For fuck sakes, he's being _drowned_ man. How in the hell can he say a codeword or freaking _anything_? We need men in there, _now_."

Corbin shook his head,

"No, not without the codeword because you see I had orders and…"

"God damn it. _Move_."

Roman's voice boomed through the space loudly as he stepped toe to toe with the bald headed man who faltered a little not sure how to respond to him and which would possibly have landed him a badly bust jaw had there not been a swoosh and a gasp back over the microphone, which was ever so slightly crackly from the god damn _dunking_ but otherwise working.

" _Is there anything else you want to say_?" Slaughter cooed roughly and clearly back in Dean's face again as the copper haired operative sucked in frantic breaths and hacked and coughed and then tried to say something…

"Fi…fire…fl…"

Crap.

They knew it at once. Their previous discussed codeword for the mission was _firefly_ and suddenly there it was being choked out in between gulps by the brother who was basically _begging_ them to help him. Once again Roman tried to push from the van and out past Corbin who blocked them with his hands up as Seth shot up from his seat as well. Both of them desperately needing to get there.

"Whoa, hold on, that wasn't the codeword."

"What?" Seth gaped openly,

"He said he was _fine_. So I refuse to let you morons throw the entire damn mission because the two of you are a little overprotective of your man."

"He said _firefly_ damn it," Seth barked back in outrage with one hand held out to where the surveillance tech was, "Only he couldn't say it properly because they're trying to freaking _drown_ him and besides man, what the hell does it matter _what_ he said? We came here for evidence that Sergeant Slaughter was killing soldiers we have him on tape god damn _murdering_ Dean. Now get out of the damn way."

" _Firefl_ …"

Dean was dunked again and based on the spluttering and the hitch in his breathing he was barely sucking in enough air between dips and which if nothing else answered how the drownings had happened.

" _Fire_ …"

"I said move," Roman shunted Corbin out of the way and in the process nearly put him through the side of the vehicle which had only just come back from behind repaired, but which could have put the man into another damn stratosphere for all the big man cared, because he _had_ to get to Dean.

Beyond them in the moonlight there were a group of twenty officers, standing in preparedness and waiting for their cue, but neither of the taskforce men cared about Corbin _or_ his lack of damn orders. They would get Dean on their own and so to that end they blitzed past the bewildered looking backup and then along the chain link fencing.

Seth was barking at him,

"Go."

"Damn it, I _am_ …"

In his free hand Roman was hunting in his pockets for his police badge as the two of them rounded the perimeter bend and then pounded towards the super bored looking rookie sentry who blinked at them,

"Who goes…"

"Police," Roman breathlessly puffed back, pushing away the bayonet and rifle being nervously and shakily pointed up towards his face by a reedy looking youth that he wouldn't have trusted to use _cutlery_ , far less a fully loaded killing machine. Luckily though like all of the recruits he was a greenhorn and so not much prepared to shoot _anyone_ , far less the law. The boy paused,

"Um, did you say you were…"

Seth barked at him,

"Hey open up man before they kill him in there."

" _Kill_?"

In response the little sentry wide eyed and then possibly would have even frozen up in bewilderment had a sudden reluctant sounding voice not then rung out from behind and made them all turn.

It was Corbin.

Scratch that. Because it was actually Corbin _plus_ his much needed troops, since his men were busily streaming along behind him like some sort glorious army. Corbin was even holding his police badge up, as if the hat and the belt and gun weren't enough clues, although Roman was grateful to see them.

Corbin yelled,

"You heard them soldier. Open this base up. This is a crime scene now, so stand aside."

Looking bewildered the nervy sentry did just that and then scrabbled to raise up the barrier holding them back which Roman and Seth slalomed anyway like a couple of horses now that there was no lingering chance of being shot. The tech man easily outstripped the bigger man however, who had definitely been built for strength over speed.

Seth pointed,

"Hey this way man, the workshop's over this way."

"Go, I'm right behind you."

Seth cantered across the grass, blitzing past the rows of plain looking barracks which all seemed dank and pretty rundown and which made Roman's blood boil because this was the _army_. Had no one bothered to oversee the damn place and why had god damn _Slaughter_ been allowed to take control of things to the point that he considered it his personal domain? To humiliate, brutalize and murder as he wanted? Roman was going to crazy at Steph and demand nothing sort of a full scale investigation. _When_ they got Dean back.

Dean.

"Hang in there uce."

In front of him Seth pulled his gun from its holster and Roman copied, watching his littler brother burst through a door and then disappear from his line of sight completely.

Damn.

He sped up and then followed him through in time to hear the yell which was shot through with authority and a fury which Roman got as he surveyed the hateful scene.

"Hands up," Seth bellowed, "Hands up and step away from him."

He was pointing his handgun at three men around a trough, a long metal drinker used for farm animals but which had at some point been filled right up to the brim. The stooges in question were bent in low over it with Sergeant Slaughter stood a little way off, but with a copper blonde buzz shaved head being held beneath the water with no chance of escaping.

Slaughter launched for the door and Roman narrowed his eyes then stopped him rapidly in a body slam which pounded the asshole hard into the wall.

"Oof…"

"You son of a god damn bitch," Roman bellowed, feeling more ferocious than he ever had done in his whole life. Slaughter swung a fist up which the big man blocked with his forearm, but he grunted at the punch that landed hard on his ribs as Slaughter instinctively tried to use his training and _also_ barked at him,

"Do you know who I am? I am a commanding officer of…"

" _Nothing_."

Roman reached out and grabbed him hard around the throat and possibly would have squeezed until his popped since he could barely even _see_ through the red mist of rage. Slaughter scrabbled and huffed a squeaky breath out, then started to turn purple…

But Roman _could_ still _hear_ though, which is why he stopped and then looked over his shoulder as Seth called out brokenly,

"Roman, over here."

Seth was knelt beside a familiar figure who was spread out on the ground looking limp and kind of _blue_. His new hair had been tousled in the way that Roman liked it but in the throws of having tried to fight for his life and from Seth's horrified expression there was no clues that he had won that.

"Uce?"

Roman let go of Slaughter at once, who gasped and then slumped super floppily down the brickwork to be swept up by Corbin's cops who had also arrived on the scene, to handcuff and cart away the main ringleaders of the nightmare. But not that Roman saw any of that as he crossed the pitted ground and then fell down heavily to where Seth was making rescue breaths and pumping hard on Dean's chest.

Oh god.

" _Breathe_ ," he barked, "Breathe. Come on man, don't damn well do this. Roman…"

The big man swallowed,

 _No_.

"You do compressions and I'll breathe. Keep going brother, keep going. Don't stop for nothing."

But god damn it Roman had never felt so helpless in his life, watching his middle brother lying there lifeless. Because that was kind of the thing with Dean. Their crazy uce was never still for a second, he was always moving some way or somehow. Knocking his fingers over and over on a table, or the dash, or his kneecaps or biting on a pen, or his nails, or scratching at his neck or doing _something_ and yet there he was, eyes closed like they were maybe too late. Finishing the last compression Seth rocked backwards and then barked at him, breathless with the exertion,

"Do it now man."

Roman made a seal and then pushed a long steady breath in which made Dean's soggy shirt lift and then again and again before reaching down and checking his pulse.

Nothing.

He shook his head and Seth pushed him back out of the way,

" _Again_."

Roman had a terrible pit in his stomach and tears in his eyes because _no_. Just no. How could they ever have been too damn late to save him? They were never too late. Not for their brother. _Never_ for him.

"Go man," Seth shouted again looking exhausted and Roman leaned in heart pounding over the horribly ashen face, although as it turned out the rescue breath wasn't needed because suddenly Dean's blue eyes sprung open again and he coughed and then choked on a mouthful of water which bubbled in his throat.

"Whoa…"

Roman rolled him onto his side, helped by Seth as they held Dean braced against them and rubbed at his back as the water trickled out. Roman looked up to the heavens.

"Thank god man, thank you god," he made the sign of the cross then tried to get rid of the shaking of his body as Seth leaned in closer.

"Hey it's okay man. Cough it up, that's it man. Come on, get it all out now."

"Ugh…"

Dean's eyes rolled and then fluttered momentarily as he made a confused sounding noise in his throat, but which wasn't too surprising given the fact he had _died_ technically. Roman put a hand on the buzz cut to try and soothe him but feeling hands on him Dean started to flail, since probably the last thing he could physically remember was trying to fight for his life against the goons. He lashed out blindly which caught Seth and knocked him backwards with a startled sort of grunt,

"Geez."

"Babe, hey hey hey, calm down," pinning his hands back Roman turned the face towards him and then watched the hazy blues blinked a few times super before thankfully crumpling up in confusion,

"R…R'man?"

It finished up with a bubbly hack, but it was Dean and it was coherent and it was so beautifully _uce like_ that Roman could have openly wept in relief, although in the end he simply settled for wiping his tears off and then cradling his brother in close to his chest. Seth scrambled back up from the cold floor beside them and then leant in even closer,

"Dean? Hey man?"

 _Cough_.

"Hey ass'ole," _cough_ , "Glad y' fellers could make it. Real party we were havin' here," _cough_.

That.

Freaking _that_.

Roman chuckled in a low honeyed timbre which bumped Dean a little up and down in his arms and Seth blew a breath out that was so long and heavy he nearly dislodged a small part of his lungs. Not that either of them would have cared about that though, because Dean was alive.

Seth snorted,

"Yeah man, we heard, although next time maybe think about calling us a little sooner you god damn freaking moron."

 _Cough_.

"Did we get 'im?"

"Sure did babe, we sure did," Roman rumbled back at him as Seth reached in between them and swiped the water from Dean's hair, which — because it was recently shortened — made the droplets fly up in a murderous little shower and cascade down his features which Seth also brushed away from him, like a possessed and really overly handsy mom. Way behind them in the background and hidden by the teammates the evil Sergeant Slaughter was being led away, barking and protesting about his exemplary army records but sounding scratchy voiced from the choking he had got. Roman nodded, "Yeah, we got him _real_ good babe. _You_ got him. We couldn't have done it without _you_ uce."

"Nearly fuckin' _did_."

Ouch.

Roman wasn't sure if Dean was kidding but luckily never got to find that part out, since Dean hacked a cough loose and let Seth pull him upright as a shadow fell in over them.

Corbin again.

"Uh, so, it kind of looks like we're done here. Guess we better go and wake up the rest of the recruits and start sending them home before CSI get here. Is...is he alright?"

Seth snorted,

"No god damn thanks to you."

"What?" Dean blinked in confusion from between them, having evidently picked up on the heat of the words and trying to fill the gap in with his limited faculties, in between coughing and bodily shivering of course. The shivering was new though. Roman shrugged off his jacket and then placed it around the quaking shoulders of his friend as Seth mirrored him rapidly and did the same on his other side. Dean's voice came out shaky and husky.

"Hold on. Are you freakin' sayin' he nearly got me _killed_ here?"

Corbin flushed,

"Uh, I'll go and get some blankets to keep him warm Oh and one of my men has called it in already so there should be an ambulance heading this way. So, unless there's anything else then…"

"There isn't," Seth snapped back in no nonsense tones and then busying himself with arranging the jackets warmer and tighter around their poor battered friend and using his own sleeves to rub the damp hair dry. Thankfully though Roman was a little more kind,

"Uh. We'll let you know."

"Sure."

Corbin backed away slowly and then nearly fell into the sloshing murder trough which made Dean bark in amusement for a second then cough as Roman rubbed between his shoulder blades and used the contact like an executive stress toy to work his fury out,

Dean threw up his hands,

"Fuck. Well, I mean I guess that's freakin' it now. I figure I _gotta_ keep this super short cut," he huffed wagging his head to prove his point on the matter, like a long haired dog shaking after climbing from the bath..

Seth frowned at him,

"Why?"

"Because it freakin' saved my life dude."

"Huh? How in the hell did your _hair_ save your life?"

Dean shrugged,

 _Duh_.

"Like, come on, _think_ about it. I mean if I'd had my _old_ freakin' hair then it probably would have got _waterlogged_ an' pulled me under even harder an' made me all heavy. This haircut freakin' _saved_ me."

"Dean…"

Seth frowned as he went to fire back again, which in itself was actually kind of nice, since Roman actually got to _hear_ his brothers bickering. Or maybe _not_ bickering, because instead Seth merely sighed and then threw his hands up, for once not prepared to argue.

"Fine Dean. Whatever. Your hair saved your life man. It was a sign from the universe to keep the damn buzz cut."

Dean nodded coughed then nodded at him lazily,

"Yep."

And which — as Roman would later tell his children in a fully abridged and _way_ less death defying retell — was how their Uncle Dean went from having flowing tresses to having short, but thankfully no less _tousleable_ hair.

* * *

 **Ta da! That's it now folks, in this little universe (except for flashback episodes) Dean now has short hair, but, good news, Roman can still make it scruffy and paw through it so all is right with the world!**

 **Next week, the boys go to see a scary movie for a very important reason and well...things don't go well, but not for the reason you might think. Well, I mean, not entirely at least!**


	43. Ain't Nothing But A Heartache

**Right, so we've got a bit of everything in this story. Horror movie, romance, drama. Everything! Although probably not quite in the way you're expecting. Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Mandy, Sorry the job hunting is being such a drain on you. But you know I'm always happy to help! My mum is doing really well thank you. One more appointment and we're hoping to finally have the all clear. Thank you for always caring *big hugs***

 **Wolfgirl2013, Aww, many thanks.**

 **Cheryl24, Nope. Just a crappy drill sergeant who got too big for his boots. Inspired by some things I read in the news years ago.**

 **Rebel8954, Yeah, maybe one day I'll delve into Seth's time in jail a bit more. But I have to have a real plot worm to get me going before I even want to write anything at all. As for the movie? Nope, not jail based, although Seth is having a hard time here too…**

 **Derick Lindsey, Well, they are kind of relaxing on a day off in this one, but as usual things don't quite go to plan. Well, you got your mini wish last week. None of the Shield boys turned on each other, although god I really really really hope Dean stays!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yeah, Dean is not a happy bunny in this chapter. But then again though neither is Seth. In fact I'm not sure who comes out worse from it? You'll have to let me know at the end!**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Hi, I'm not doing requests at the moment and I'm going to leave these oneshots for a little while and focus again on Dean and Lauren and some other ideas I've got rattling around. But glad you liked the last one and I hope you like this one!**

 **Skovko, Oh come on. Do you really think Dean would be able to go on vacation without finding trouble? Haha. The answer is no! Although luckily Roman and Seth would have hidden in his luggage and so be there to save him!**

 **Bookworm027, Ooh, I had you going for a second there! But no, I would never hurt Dean too bad. I just like seeing Seth and Roman panic and be all protective. Call it a weird kink!**

 **Minnie1015, Aww, I did miss you. But you got here just in time! Well, the rule is I don't hurt Dean too badly. No one said I couldn't kill him and then bring him back to life! Ooh, enjoy Raw. Wish I was there with you! Shield shirt on this time?**

 **I think the title says it all...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Ain't Nothing But A Heartache**

Dean had never understood why horror movie characters crept around in the dark fucking _looking_ for shit.

Because who really _did_ that when things got all hairy? Who didn't just get the hell out of dodge? Case in point the woman on the big screen in front of him, tiptoeing around in her freaking _nightgown_ in spite of the fact that everyone she had been with had been horribly killed by —

Yep, tiptoeing around.

Not that it stopped him from blowing a curse out and then physically jolting as she screamed from _nowhere_ and which successfully flung out a whole load of his popcorn over the back of the man sat a row in front.

" _Fuck_."

The man wasn't exactly a small dude either since he seemed to positively spill out over his seat and so therefore was probably the _worst_ person to piss off. Not that Seth noticed.

"Have you seen her yet?"

"Who?"

"What do you mean _who_? Have you seen _Paige_ you idiot? That's why we're here."

"Hey — ,"

Dean scowled in affront and then huffily brushed the loose kernels off his kneecaps as Roman chuckled,

"Hey come on, leave him alone," he was trying to play big brother but it was kind of hard to pull off considering that he was chomping on a pack of Skittles like a kid and rifling through for his favorite colors, "You know uce is scared of horror movies."

"I am _not_."

"Ssssh."

In response to Dean's bark of pure outrage, someone further back let out a testy sounding hiss and he grumbled in discontent then slumped down against the seat back as he shot a dirty look at his teammate brothers.

Dicks.

"M' _not_ fuckin' scared," he huffed back bitterly, "M' like freakin' _bored_ is what I am here."

"Sure babe."

"Hey I mean it an' — ,"

" _Sssh_."

The hiss of disapproval sounded _more_ pissed the second time and even made angry dude half turn in his chair, at which point Dean rolled his eyes sullenly and settled back down again.

Stupid freakin' Seth.

Because one hundred percent it was Seth's fault entirely since _he_ was the one that had dragged them all there, to the tiny retro theatre on he corner of Flair and Second to watch some crappy black and white film, while he scanned the aisles for his on and off again girlfriend who was there with another guy. Which wasn't stalkerish, _much_.

"Hey, I'm serious here, can either one of you see her?"

Roman shook his head,

"Perhaps they changed their minds and decided to go someplace else. I mean did she definitely _say_ they were coming here?"

Seth shrugged,

"I mean, it's not like she _told_ me, she just kind of might have mentioned it in passing is all and so — ,"

"So Rollins decided to come out here like an asshole and spy on her new fuck buddy," Dean chipped in with a helpful grin that earned him a glare and a punch to the shoulder which once _again_ scattered his diminishing popcorn to the wind, like a cage of freaking butterflies being released at a wedding and which came down over the angry popcorn-hating man in front, who then made a sound like he was cracking his knuckles, or else priming them for a series of right hooks.

Stupid Seth.

Dean opened his mouth to pass that fact onto him but then stopped as two people strolled in through the doors, one of them douchey looking with an overly long beanie and the other one pale.

"Uh — ,"

"I don't want to hear it Dean. I got it okay I'm a stalker."

"No, _look_ dude."

Grabbing Seth's chin he physically turned his brother and all three of them blinked through the black and white flicker at the oblivious couple as they plodded down the stairs, laughing and joking. Or at least Paige was laughing at something that Dochey _Not_ Seth had clearly said. Although really? What in the hell did she see in him? Douche that was. Not their brother. Because their boy was a damn good catch. Or would be for any sane _woman_ Dean figured.

Seth blinked at them,

"Oh."

Roman and Dean shared a look and then winced in unison as Seth studied his replacement, or _possible_ replacement.

Dean snorted,

"Hey, there's no contest man, because you are way better than that teenage lookin' wannabe. Like, I bet you freakin' _anythin_ ' he's in some shitty band, who only play out of his mom's garage or somethin' but who _he_ thinks are gonna be the next big freakin' thing. Or he paints or writes poems or some artsy crap like that dude."

Roman nodded,

"Yep. Uce is right man, because _that_ guy aint got _nothing_ on our brother."

Seth snorted wryly,

"Yeah?"

"Would we lie to you?" Dean smirked back and which looked convincing for all of a second. Until a black and white monster popped up on the screen which scared the literal _bejeezus_ right out of him and then made him yell above the movie screams, "Whoa, _fuck_."

Paige stopped on the stairs and seemed to frown around briefly and in response the taskforce hunkered down into their seats and hitched up the collars of their coats to hide their faces until she'd moved beyond them.

They sighed in tandem.

Phew.

Roman chuckled,

"So tell us again babe about you _not_ being scared?"

Dean grunted,

"Shut up."

Together they watched as Paige and the human Douche Nozzle picked a pair of seats in the middle a few rows down and then instantly started to make themselves comfy. Or at least the _guy_ did as he looped her with an arm. In return Paige dropped her head down onto his shoulder and — really? Freaking really? Jesus Christ what a cliché and okay so maybe Dean had done it with _his_ girl back before things had all gone to hell, but that was different because she had been adorable and besides, the two of them had been actually _engaged_. Unlike Captain Douche and the black haired woman who was stomping all over their little brother's heart.

Dean threw a popcorn husk in their direction and then watched with glee as it bounced right off hat and made Douche poke at the folds in bewilderment.

 _Ha_.

Seth hissed at him warningly,

" _Dean_."

"Come on Seth, it's fun besides dude, don't you pretend you dont wanna try it."

"Damn it Dean, no, because I — ,"

Paige and Douchebag shared a kiss, which pretty much came from right out freaking nowhere as he turned her head by the tip of her chin and then started to smooch her like his life depended on it. Seth leaned over and grabbed a whole bunch of popcorn, which he threw pretty much in a clump towards the couple before ducking back down again.

Dean smirked at him,

"See? _Fun_."

"Boys, you behave now," Roman chuckled fondly as several rows ahead Paige's new guy blinked up, like maybe the extra popcorn was raining from the heavens. Except then he shrugged and nuzzled closer Paige and —

Oh dear god.

Was he _nibbling her earlobe_? In a _movie theatre_? Because freaking _come on_. Having finished with that he then whispered something skeevy. Or _probably_ skeevy — Dean was guessing on that — and in response Paige let out a kind of girlish sounding giggle, which made Seth huff.

"I wish I knew what they were saying."

Dean snorted,

"Hey man, I mean, no freakin' problem. Because you say the word an' I'll go sneak behind their chairs an' take notes on all the romantic shit he's been spoutin' so you can see what you're up against."

Seth shrugged,

"I mean you _could_ — ,"

"Huh?"

Dean had been midway through catching a popcorn kernel which he had throw up into the air to try and score, but he ended up sucking it in and then choking as it fell back into his open and gaping mouth. Trying to be helpful Roman reached across the seating and gave him a pretty hefty slap on the back, which propelled the sodden kernel from the back of his larynx and across the blackened theatre into the angry man's nape.

Luckily the guy didnt much seem to notice but it was super weird watching it rise and fall nonetheless, as it shone under the lights with the spit from his voice box.

"Dean — ,"

"No come on. I was freakin' _kiddin'_ Seth. I mean what am I here? Like, a ninja assassin?"

His brother rolled his eyes,

"I'm not asking you to kill. I'm _asking_ you to go and just see what you can hear for me, see if she mentions me or if he's forcing her."

"What?"

Paige didn't look like she was being _forced_ to do anything, but there Seth was making big puppy dog eyes which broke Deans freaking heart and…

"Ugh, okay _fine_ but if Paige sees and starts trying to kick the crap outta me, I expect some freaking backup."

"Sure thing babe," Roman grinned, tossing up another handful of Skittles and then gave him a big thumbs up and a wink. Presumably because _he_ wasn't going spying, not that their powerhouse had been built for stealth work.

Bitterly Dean shunted his popcorn at their tech man and then unfurled from the ridiculously uncomfortable theatre seat, which creaked and made him seize up in panic, although luckily it seemed nobody much cared, other than for the fact that he was blocking the movie.

"Down in front."

 _Nope._

He flipped whoever it was the bird and then went to try and edge out onto the rampway before suddenly being stopped by Seth grabbing his arm.

"Hey, remember man, keep low and — ,"

 _Really_?

"Fucking _hello_. I _have_ done this before. What is this my first freakin' rodeo here or somethin'? Or did you just _forget_ me infiltratin' drug gangs an' killer hillbilly cults? _Trust me_ dude I got this."

Drawing himself upright Dean took a step backwards and then immediately tripped over the handles of a bag, which deposited him down hands first onto the carpet which was ancient and, okay, really _really_ sticky.

Fuck.

He popped up again and chanced a glance over his shoulder to see if his brothers had noticed his fall which, yep, of course they had since they were both blinking at him in a mixture of concern and impending doom.

"Babe?"

"I'm fine," Dean grunted brushing his hands off and then shuffling awkwardly back out onto the shadowy aisle, trying to ignore the groan from behind him in familiar sounding Seth tones.

"So, I guess he's doomed then, right?"

"Yep."

Dean again flipped the trusted bird at them and then narrowed his eyes through the theatre gloom, because where in the hell were Wednesday Addams and Douchebag?

He spotted them both playing tonsil hockey in front and so plodded as discreetly as he could down the aisle until he reached the row set directly behind and which he then began to push through past unsuspecting kneecaps, which was always the worst part of going to see a film. Having to uproot like, fifteen freaking strangers every time you needed to go and take a piss and _then_ the endless process of nodding and saying thank you as people twisted in their seats or freaking had to stand up. Clearly movie theatres had not been designed for the socially anxious _or_ for people trying to spy on their best friend's girl. Which is why he had to get down on kneecaps the closer he got.

Gross.

Someone hissed in concern,

"Are — are you okay sir?"

"Uh yeah," he whispered back at them, trying hard to make sure that Paige didn't hear, "I — uh, think I lost my keys down here last showin', so m' gonna have a look an' like, see if I can find 'em — uh, pretend m' not here."

He then knelt on her toe and she hissed and shot him a veritable death glare as he winced apologetically then crawled past.

FreakingSeth.

Luckily however — or maybe not luckily, since luck would be _not_ being on his damn hands and knees, or being stuck at a movie he hated but was _not_ freaking scared of — the seats behind Paige were free and so he was able to stop super close right behind them and, yep, god damn it they were still making out, because hey why not crap on Seth's heart even _harder_? Wasn't like he _needed_ it or anything, right?

Douche's hand wandered round the back of the seating, followed by an actual grunt of delight as he grabbed hold of something — a boob probably Dean figures — and in response Paige pulled back and then pushed him off.

"Whoa. Dougie, stop— ,"

Oh _come on_. His name was _Dougie_? Ugh. Of _course_ his name was Dougie. Asshole name for an asshole guy and one who had clearly never been rebutted,

"Huh?" he murmured back still sort of buried beneath her jaw, as he snuffled at her neck like some sort of truffle pig.

Perhaps Seth had been right about Paige being forced and okay, so no one had physically _made_ her kiss him, but it _was_ clear that she didn't want his lips anymore. Based on her huff she then tried to push him backwards and when he didn't move Dean reached in through the seat and then poked _Douchebag Doug_ super hard in the butt cheek which made the guy straight up _squeak_ in alarm and then turn back towards the person sat behind him — only there wasn't one. Dean heard him gulp in alarm, because what with pokings and popcorn kernels raining down on him, the freaking idiot clearly thought the place was haunted.

Ha. Good.

Only then he huffed at her. _Huffed_. Like a god damn child,

"Hey come on Paige, what fucking gives here? Because I thought you _wanted_ to take a ride on the Dougie train."

"Not in the middle of the cinema," Paige shot back at him as Dean threw up a little bit in his mouth at the thought of the horrifically awful sounding _Doug train_. Holy crap the guy needed new lines, or possibly a full frontal lobotomy or neutering and _especially_ since Paige then had to push him back _again_ , "Look can we just sit and watch the film for a second?"

"No tongue bath for mami?" Doug simpered our in husky tones, which possibly would have worked had he actually been Hispanic and able to legitimately pull the word _mami_ off, or else had not used the freaking phrase _tongue bath_.

"I mean it Dougie, stop."

"But I haven't had my fun and I know you want a good night as much I do, so let me get a feel of these — ,"

"Hey dickhead, I said _no_."

SLAP.

Doug let out an actual shriek of horror as Paige's palm caught him hard across the cheek, which she followed by snatching up her purse and her jacket and then stomping away from away from him. Dean let out a grin. Doug had been asking for a beating — if not from Paige then sure as freaking _hell_ from him — but also because he liked that Paige was all feisty. It was why she had been so perfect for Seth and maybe still _was_ since Doug was a goner.

Or not.

"Hey — hey babe wait up."

He grabbed his shit and then blundered off after her and in response Dean cursed then stumbled to his feet, figuring it was about to go down in the lobby. He trampled on the toes of the concerned woman again who hissed in pained protest as he dived for the aisle then pelted clumsily back up to where Seth and Roman were sat, blinking in confusion as they waited for answers.

Seth flung his hands wide,

"What the hell was that? What's going on man?"

Dean panted,

"Doug's an asshole. He tried to touch her up an' shit. She slapped him he followed her. Freakin' get out there."

In response Seth positively threw Dean's popcorn in his haste to launch himself out of his seat and was away down the aisle before the thing even landed —

On the head of the angry man sitting in front who ended up wearing the upturned box like a witch's hat, while kernels of popped goodness trickled down past his face and gathered on his shoulders like a chunky pile of dandruff. Dean physically winced at it. That wasn't good.

"Uh — ,"

"Come on uce, move."

Grabbing him as he pushed last Roman hauled him hauled him behind him, unaware of the popcorn related drama going down, _or_ the steam starting to pour from the ears of the angry man. On the screen the woman in the negligee scream and —

Yep.

Dean totally knew _that_ feeling.

Roman marched them both out through the doorway and out into the brightly foyer beyond, where Paige and Dougie were yelling pretty loudly and drawing the looks of everyone not watching a film. Dougie was whining.

Like, actually _whining_.

"Hey. Come on babe, people are looking. Let's go and watch the rest of the — ,"

Paige stepped back,

"No. Oh no, don't touch me you pervert."

But he did anyway by reaching out and grabbing her wrist, which based on her clenched fists she planned to meet with a right hook. Although before she could even _consider_ trying to hurl it, Seth slid in between and then shoved Dougie back,

"She _said_ don't touch her man."

"Oof — ,"

Doug flung his arms out, like a weird sort of bird as he careered clumsily back and then collided with the cardboard cutout for a romcom which for a second made it look like he was dancing with the leads. Paige meanwhile narrowed her smoky eyes bewilderedly as she clearly tried to figure what the fuck was going on.

" _Seth_?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

She blinked at him,

"What are you doing here?"

Uh oh.

Seth shrugged,

"Uh, I mean you might have _kind_ of mentioned it so — ," he coughed and tapered off but was still assessing her for wounds. Her cardigan had come loose as she'd fought off Dougie and so he reached out and gently slipped it up over her arm, which was sweet, or you know, most probably _would_ have been had she not then barked.

"Hold up. Did you _follow_ me?"

"Uh — ,"

Honestly speaking things were going pretty badly, although whatever Seth's response was Dean never found out, because at _that_ moment the theatre doors banged behind them and somebody grabbed him and threw him into the wall before grabbing his lapels and lifting him clean up off his boot soles,

" _Whoa_. The fuck?"

Oh.

He was blinking at Angry Man, who had burst from the theatre like a bull at Pamplona and who still had a pile of popcorn kernels on his head, which Dean reached out and brushed off with a chuckle, hoping to make things better.

Yep. That didn't work.

"Hey. Get off him," Roman growled in sudden fury, storming across with a brotherly scowl and then trying to pry off the angry man of him, as the mood in the lobby pretty much went to hell, with him being damn near choked by the concessions stand and Paige, Seth and Doug in the middle of it all, in the most fucked up love triangle since Joey, Pacey and Dawson.

Well, probably anyway.

" _No_."

Fhw whole place went quiet as Paige let out a part screech and part bellow. Even angry guy froze and then looked across the space as the lobby seemed to turn into a crazy art tableau.

"Paige look — ,"

Seth stepped forward and in response she stepped back before looking up remorsefully which — yep — was not a good sign.

Dean winced.

 _Crap_.

"Seth listen, you're a really nice guy and I like what we have together but it just isn't working. I told you at the start that I wanted no strings stuff and you said you were fine with that, but you're not so it's not fair for me to drag that out any longer. I mean, come on, let's face it, you deserve to be with some nice little girl who wants marriage and kids and the baking cookies at home shit and I'm not ready to settle down yet."

Seth gaped at her,

"But — ,"

"Woohoo," Dougie laughed inappropriately in the background, pumping his hands up into the air as he finally got himself untangled from the cut out, "I win, so you can suck ass man bun dude who — whoa, okay — is also totally muscly."

Paige rolled her eyes,

"Doug you're dumped."

"I'm _what_?"

"Now get out of here before I break your nose you wanker."

It was doubtful Doug knew what a _wanker_ even was, but the threat of bloodshed part he latched onto fully, considering that he seemed to turn suddenly pale. Not that it actually made him physically move though. Until Seth stepped towards him, because _then_ he backed up.

"Alright alright."

He paused on the threshold for a fraction of a second like Paige might realize she had made a mistake — because how could he _not_ be the best man is existence — before huffing and then thankfully stomping from view like a child.

Make that a really _douchey_ child.

"You too Seth," Paige sighed,

Huh?

Everyone blinked. Including Dean who was still borderline having his throat squeezed by the crush of his lapels, not that the angry man cared since he was busy keeping tabs on the evident break up which was _ten_ times more exciting than the movie had been.

Maybe they should have been charging for tickets?

Seth turned his hands over and —

Oh crap.

He looked embarrassed and a tiny bit desperate which was not a look that Dean had seen on him much and straight up didn't _want_ to see either.

Fuck.

"Paige, hey come on, I don't want all that stuff. I'm not ready for kids or marriage or commitment."

She paused,

"So you'd be happy for us to keep dating while I see other men?"

"I — ,"

Seth faltered.

The answer was _no_ and what was more was that everyone knew it. Angry Man picked a piece of popcorn from his hair and then chewed on it absently which made Dean scowl.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Paige reluctantly offered back, tearing up as she reached out and then tweaked his chin fondly, "I — I can't give you what you're looking for okay? But if you ever decide you want something fun and easy with no strings attached then you know where I am okay? Except you won't because you're great and you deserve a lot better."

"Paige, no — ,"

She tiptoed up and then gave him a kiss. Nothing too hot, more a peck on the cheek really which made it more final than saying farewell, although she did that too as she turned for the theatre and the screamfest beyond,

"Goodbye Seth, it was fun."

"But, but — ,"

He repeated the word in bewilderment but could then only watched as she strode briskly away, wiping off the tears as she did what was best for him. Although _damn_ did he look like a freaking puppy who'd been kicked. Roman furrowed his big furry brows up as his heart promptly broke,

"Hey little brother, you okay?"

"I — I'm fine."

Bullshit. He wasn't and knowing it instantly Roman moved towards him leaving Dean with Angry Man, although even his attacker seemed choked up by the damn thing. After all, who among them _hadn't_ been dumped?

Or okay, so _Dean_ hadn't and probably nor had Roman, ridiculously muscled piece of Samoan catnip that he was and Dean wasn't sure if _Seth_ had ever been either. But Angry Dude most definitely had, which was why he then released Dean's lapels from out of nowhere and then nodded towards Seth awkwardly,

"Hey, go take care of your friend."

"Uh thanks…"

He had a piece of popcorn sticking out of his nostril which Dean considered briefly maybe telling him about, but then thought better of as he was placed onto his feet again, so simply cut towards his brothers cursing the whole freaking night.

Horror movies.

Ugh.

By the time he got over to where his brothers were standing, Seth was slump shouldered and rubbing his face while Roman squeezed a big broad hand on his shoulder and looked deeply sympathetic.

"God I'm a idiot."

"Hey."

"I'm a sad pathetic moron. I mean, _stalking_ her here come on? You were right Dean. No freaking wonder she cut me loose. I followed her to a _movie theatre_ to spy on her," he slapped his head and in response Dean frowned. Roman meanwhile pulled his hands down to stop him doing worse.

"Hey man, come on I mean okay so you followed her, but I listened in on her, which is like, ten times creepier."

"Yeah but only because I begged you to."

"Oh right." Dean winced then paused for a second before shaking his head. Because no. Just no. No way was he prepared to let his little brother wallow. He frowned, "Look whatever dude that's not important right now. What's important here is that she just gave you a gift man. I mean think about it, before her you were out of the game an' now you're like, totally back on the horse again."

"He's right man," Roman rumbled, "I mean it might hurt right now, but at least now you know you _want_ to be in a relationship."

Seth snorted back,

"Damn I _hate_ when you two are right."

He smiled though — mildly — and so Roman reached up and tousled him, which was a sign in their world that things were okay. Or weren't but _would_ be which was an important distinction.

Dean paused briefly,

"Wanna go and get drunk?"

"Hell yes."

"Cool," Dean beamed back rubbing his hands keenly as the three of them began to head towards the door and as behind them the angry man found the nostril wedged kernel then turned newly murderous eyes on the copper blonde.

Uh oh.

Stopping on the threshold Dean held the door open for a fraction of a second as Angry Man charged close before letting it swing at the pivotal moment.

BANG.

Popcorn dude bounced head first off the glass and then pooled in a heap in the middle of the lobby with a circle of cartoon birds flapping round his skull. Or okay, maybe not but it would have been cool if there had been. Ignoring the scene to catch up with his brothers, Dean threw a casual arm around them both and then grinned as they turned in the direction of Swiss Tonys with a happy little chirp,

"So, are we drinkin' beer or hooch?"

* * *

 **Yep, sorry Seth, but you should know by now that this is a totally Starsky and Hutch kind of a deal. Dysfunctional heterosexual life partners all the way in this one!**

 **Next week Hope Kitty makes a return as the boys investigate a showbiz pet agency. (Whatever you're thinking, the answer is yes!)**


	44. CatAstrophe

**Welcome to the punniest title I have ever graced you with (sorry not sorry). I hope (also a pun) we're ready for the return of Hope the cat? Not that anyone can ever be ready, but as ready as possible?**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Many thanks lovely!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, heartbroken Seth is a sorry little creature, but like you said, better he knows now than later! Plus he's got Roman and Dean there to help drink away the pain!**

 **Rebel8954, Ah, nice idea but I've already used Kane (the pitfall of writing so many of these!) Yeah, poor Seth, but then the course of true love never did run smooth and especially not for our boys in this universe!**

 **Mandy, Haha, well, next time Seth feels like plunging into the dating pool again I'll see what I can do. Although I think Paige may have scarred him for a while! Still, he seems to be over it in this story, so all the late night drinking must have helped!**

 **Cheryl24, Yep, they were cute, but this universe is like a seventies cop show. The women come and go, but the boys are dysfunctional life partners forever. Bros before hoes etc. etc!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Dougie and Angry Guy from last week were just random characters, although if you can make wrestlers fit with those then go right ahead! Well, I have good news and bad news for today's instalment. Good news, Natalya is here. Bad news, she's not the Nattie we know and love!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Ooh, I don't envy anyone putting their hands down their with Hope! Luckily it doesn't get that far as you will see. Aww, glad you look forward to these on a Monday! I look forward to the reviews too!**

 **Minnie1015, Yay, I kind of made it to Raw! Also, yes, I love Flat Stanley. Weird children's books for the win! I know, I know, I was mean to Seth last week, but hey, makes a change from being mean to Dean right?! (I'm a little bit mean to him here!)**

 **Skovko, Oh yeah, that last one was a glimpse into the teenage boys if I ever decided to do a nineties high school drama with them (full disclaimer: I won't!)**

 **Stand back, here comes kitty...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: CatAstrophe**

 _Natalya Neidhart's Agency for Showbiz Animals_ occupied a building in a nice part of town. A small place but sandwiched between an upmarket restaurant and a super fancy pants style all day spa, which gave it an air of much needed respectability and explained why the waiting room was full of well bred types.

By which Dean meant full of well bred pets _and_ owners. And him of course and a black dude with cornrows in his hair and a pot bellied bulldog snuffle breathing in front of him.

Dean meanwhile had his cat Hope _and_ about a million bite marks and scratches, because — _newsflash_ — she had _not_ liked going in the crate, which she reminded him about every time she could get her paw out and swipe him through the grating on the front of the thing.

" _Pfft_."

"Hey, cut it out," he hissed at her sternly, "We're on a job here. You gotta be professional, alright?"

" _Pfft_."

Bizarrely the cornrowed dude leaned in a little closer and then pointed to the basket that was yowling on Dean's lap and occasionally rattling like he'd brought some kind of _hailstorm_ instead of a regular animal.

"Hey man, is that a cat?"

"Uh," Dean blinked and then nodded, "Sure is man. This is my girl. She's a long haired tabby cat. Got her from the shelter a couple months back 'cos they were gonna like, freakin' put her to sleep, just 'cos she bit a dude this one time. But he probably did somethin', so it wasn't her fault. Cats can sense when people are assholes."

He actually felt pretty strongly about that, because okay, so maybe his cat was a _little_ feisty, but she only lashed out when necessary.

Oh and at Seth.

Cornrow dude shook his head a little nervously,

"Hell no man, I don't like cats. They scare me. That's why I bought me my dog here," he slapped the pooch's chest and it wheezed at him a bit, "Because this is a _real_ pet."

Um —

Exsqueeze him?

Dean blinked in outrage and Hope lashed a claw out, which caught him over the back of the knuckles. But she'd been _aiming_ for cornrow, because they were a team.

He huffed,

"Listen up man, because if you think for one second that your chicken weasel dog is — ,"

Seth interrupted him,

" _Let it go_."

He was speaking through the hidden piece wedged in his earlobe and feeding both his brothers from where they were parked in their brand new van, which had been wrapped so that it looked like a humble pizza vehicle and _not_ the surveillance hub of the best taskforce in the world. Because — yep — the cat thing was all a part of their new mission, investigating the increasing disappearance of pets and the sudden suspicious rise of Natalya Neidhart's Agency and the several links between them.

Hence needing Hope.

Dean grumbled back at his brother with an eye roll,

"Oh come, he freakin' bad mouthed my cat, an' m' supposed to sit an' say zip about his bulldog?"

" _Remember the mission babe_ ," Roman rumbled back, as Seth presumably threw his hands up in long suffering and then passed the reins to their biggest, oldest man. Their powerhouse had always been able to soothe Dean better, " _Besides babe, we all know our girl Hope could take a dog._ "

Dean grunted,

"Huh. She could probably take a _grizzly bear_."

" _Damn straight she could uce."_

Cornrows was staring at him in alarm, possibly because Dean was muttering to no one — or not to no one, although it probably _looked_ a lot like that — and not that it stopped him from scritching the bulldog.

"Little Jimmy? Your daddy's gonna make you a star."

Uh, _Little Jimmy_?

Dean snorted at that one, but was cut off by a muscled woman with blonde and pink hair, who stepped from an office and then called his name out.

Well, _sort of_ his name.

"Jon Moxley and Hope?"

"Here."

Dean stood up and Hope responded by growling as the cat basket of doom bobbed her roughly up and down. In response to it Cornrows pulled Little Jimmy in closer like Hope might burst loose like a scene from King Kong and then start scaling the freaking Empire State Building. Dean grinned as he started to edge past the seats, although he may have swayed ever so slightly towards Cornrows, who hiccupped and then scrabbled his feet up on his chair.

 _Ha_.

"This way Mister Moxley," the woman he knew was Natalya beamed at him. But it was one of those _fake_ smiles he didn't trust at all and certainly not around his precious long haired tabby.

Seth hissed at him,

" _Okay man so go with the plan here. The big guy and I can hear everything she says to you, so let her ask the questions and we'll tell you what to say._ "

They had taken detailed statements from the victims of the pet scam so knew exactly what Natalya wanted Dean to say in order that she could then try and swipe his loose. Although naturally they wouldn't let it come to _that_ part.

Hugging the cat basket he stepped into the room past her and then took a seat in front of a desk in a small but plush room, with views out over Stephanie. McMahon Boulevard, as it had officially been renamed in light of the _Hogan Diamond_ thing.

Natalya sat in front of him and laced her fingers together and — yep — there was that same fake ass smile again.

 _Ugh_.

"So Mister Moxley, thank you for coming. I just have a few questions before we look at your pet, because we need to make sure the animal has the right temperament to able to work in television or on movie sets."

Or else the right temperament for being swiped from her owner and then peddled for sale halfway around the freaking globe.

Not that he _said_ that.

"Sure."

"Now tell us about Hope then. What makes her special?"

Dean sucked a breath in,

 _Here it freaking goes_.

"Uh, well she's real kinda _spunky_ ," he offered honestly, not needing either Roman or Seth to help on that, although Seth snorted hard at him choosing to use _spunky_ instead of bloodthirsty which would also have worked. Dean cleared his throat and then shuffled on the chair a bit and Hope hissed at him which made Natalya blink. He hurried to talk over it, "Uh and she's like real freaking pretty, lots of colors and she's got these _like_ , little tufts on her ears, which make her look like an owl or somethin'. Oh, plus she's super clever so the owl thing kinda fits. In fact she's probably the smartest cat ever."

Natalya smiled saccharinely,

"I see. And does she have any skills that might make her more profitable? Strictly in a showbiz sense I mean."

Dean bit down a grunt of bitterness at _that_ one and the fact that he wanted to call bullshit on the thing, then remembered he was working a case and so nodded,

"Uh huh, she likes to drink water from her paws. Like, she dips her paws into the water bowl then licks 'em because she doesn't like getting her whiskers all wet. Beecause like I said, she's real freakin' clever. Oh, an' also she kinda likes to stand up on her back legs. Like a freakin' meerkat I guess or whatever."

Natalya blinked,

 _Bingo_.

"Did you say _stand up_?"

Dean nodded,

"Yeah."

Nor was he lying, since Hope really _did_ sit up on her hind legs, with her paws just sort of hanging down beside her which Dean caught her doing by the window from time to time, like she wanted to get a better view of world or something, or else maybe people out on the street. In fact she was probably dragging folks for their fashion, because Hope was _totally_ that kind of cat.

Natalya smiled again,

"I see. Now what about yourself Jon?" she offered out breezily as she scribbled something down. Possibly dollar signs. Dean shrugged,

"What about me?"

"How actively would you want to be involved in Hope's career? Because sometimes show business can mean being away from home a lot, which is especially difficult for people with kids, or families, or work or certain other responsibilities. And of course we need to make sure that this benefits you."

Yep.

There it was.

" _Okay man_ ,"Seth crackled in the earpiece rustling a piece of paper," _Tell her you have kids_."

Done.

Dean scratched at his neck,

"Uh, I mean I have children. Two of 'em. Two boys. They're names are Roman and Seth. Nice kids, you know? Especially Roman. Real proud of that one. He's gonna be pretty big when he grows up. Gonna be a football player or somethin'. An' then there's Seth. Good kid, but a pain in the ass. Always barkin' in the background, but real techy. I got hopes of him goin' to NASA."

" _Funny man_."

Dean cleared his throat,

"So I'm not sure I could leave 'em. I mean, for like, super long periods anyway, 'cos I got custody hearings an' alimony an' that crap."

"I see," Natalya smiled, before blowing out a sigh, like his whole situation was a bridge too far for her, or like she maybe couldn't see a way for it to work. Which was as fake as her greeting and her sudden light bulb moment that happened a second later. _Ping._ "Oh, I know. How about the agency chaperones Hope _for_ you? We can take her jobs and have someone take care of her and _you_ can be with your kids and know that she's safe. Plus you can still make the most of her paycheck and once the job is over we can drop her right back. Because from what you're telling me your cat sounds very talented and near enough a shoe in for commercials and films."

"Yeah?" Dean let his eyes light up a little, but right in time with her whole _paycheck_ line, because _really_ he wanted to scoop his poor pet up and run for the hills with her.

" _Pfft_."

Hope swiped him through the bars and even the new wound made him love her more fiercely, because she was _his_ pet.

"Of course," Natalya nodded back, "Although naturally if Hope ends up being very famous or very in demand — as I fully suspect she will — then you might not get to see her too often, but think about what a wonderful new life she'll have. Being spoilt and pampered on big Hollywood film sets."

 _Bitch_.

"I mean, I _guess_ so — ,"

" _Good man, doing good_ , Seth offered in his ear as Natalya scribbled something else down, which Dean assumed was more than likely the word _idiot_ before looking up brightly and pointing towards the basket vibrating on his lap.

"So, shall we take a look?"

"Nope."

"What was that?"

" _Babe_ — ,"

"I mean _yes_. I got confused there," reluctantly Dean stood up from his seat and then placed the spitting cat basket down on the desktop before inching the door open.

Hope purposefully stepped out and then shot him a glower for having tricked her in there with sushi for which she would probably make him die a thousand deaths, before parking herself down like a freaking _sphinx_ or something and curling her fluffy tail round her dainty paws. She looked like a god damn movie star already and she knew it. As did Natalya.

She gasped,

"Oh my, what a beautiful cat."

Darn.

Not that Dean didn't agree with that or anything, because of _course_ Hope was beautiful, everybody knew that. But he hated that _she_ knew it and was actually _touching_ her. Which was weird because why wasn't his pet freaking the hell out, or trying to rip her damn thumb off or something?

Hope?

Natalya chuckled,

"Hmm. Hh yes, I think our agency can definitely use _this_ one. Kitties like this are very in demand, so the good news here is I'm pretty sure we can make some money. Provided you're still interested in doing business with us of course?"

Dean opened his mouth but then shut it again rapidly as the door to the office behind them suddenly clicked and a man stepped in with stony expression that made the fake ass smile look almost _good_. He was a small man — somewhere around five foot seven Dean figured — but _holy crap_ was the guy all bulk, to the point that Dean had almost had to squint to find his neck line and —

Oh, there it was.

"TJ."

Natalya beamed as Seth flapped loose papers from the case files in the background and then tried to fill him in.

" _His name is Tyson Kidd. Real name Theodore James Wilson apparently, hence TJ. He's her husband and business partner in this thihg. They met through her uncle Butcher Bret of the Hart Foundation and have been running low level scams together ever since. Watch out for him man, he might be small but he's dangerous_."

Dean grunted.

Yep. He was ridiculously small.

Ignoring Dean completely Kidd moved around the desktop and then stood beside Natalya with his eyes glued to Hope, who turned around and then aimed a hiss at him, because — oh hell yeah — _there_ was his feisty little girl.

Natalya smiled,

"So what do you think sweetie? This is Hope and her owner. He wants to make his pet a star, but _unfortunately_ he can't travel with her, because he has some little ones to take care of at home. Two lovely boys called Roman and — what was the other one?"

"Seth," Dean offered with a cheery little smirk, "Although we call him Princess, 'cos he can be a real drama queen."

" _Damn it man_ — ."

 _Ha_.

"TJ? What do you think? Shall we sign hope as our client then baby?" Natalya pouted up at her expressionless man, who blinked for a second or two like he was thinking, before shrugging and then nodding.

"Sure."

He was a man of few words, although Natalya smiled happily and then opened a drawer up from which she pulled a fully typed contract out, which Dean knew from having read over the victim's was full of nonsense babble and complex legalese that the average poor schmuck with a prissy Pomeranian or singing Bullfrog would have never understood and which was how they had managed to get away with it for so long.

Natalya pushed it and a pen across the desktop before reaching out and giving Hope another little brush, which Dean grit his teeth about.

"Feel free to read through it"

He shook his head,

Damn her.

"Uh, no, it's alright. I'm not so good at all of the legal stuff and if there was any shit I needed to know 'bout, you would like, freakin' tell me or somethin' right? Because really I'm just here to make a little extra money."

He reached over and gave Hope a loving little chin scritch to prove he didn't mean it in case she understood and also to check the hidden tracker on her collar, which was the reason he'd been talked into bringing her along, because even if they tried to freaking snatch her away from him he would know where she was.

"Nope," Natalya shook her head, "Nothing important to worry about Mister Moxley. Like you said, it's all super boring legal type stuff."

She pushed the pen closer.

 _Ugh_.

"I mean, okay then — ,"

Dean pulled the cap off to hover over the paper and was only inches away from signing his name — or his _fake_ name at least, which was pretty much the same thing — when suddenly Seth barked over the earpiece,

" _Heads up man, looks like you're about to have yourself a little company_."

Company?

What did that mean?

Dean heard a scream and then the sound of panic from back out in the waiting room. Natalya and Kidd both looked up at once and all three of them were blinking at the door in confusion when suddenly the thing blew in off its hinge, revealing a clearly drunk man stood behind it with a balding head and a drooping moustache and — oh yeah — a freaking _gun_ which was probably the main point. He wobbled a little but then levelled it at the agents who were fixed behind the desk.

He hiccupped briefly.

 _Hic_.

"Gimme my snake back. I want my snake. Damien? Damien, where are you?"

Dean blinked,

Oh crap.

He knew who it was at once, since he remembered the name Damien from their piled high police files and the myriad complaints against Natalya and Kidd, one of which had been from a man named Jake Roberts who had taken his python — no not a euphemistic — to find a chance at fame before having it snatched and which clearly he wasn't too happy about in hindsight.

Fuck.

Dean had two choices. He could pretend to be Mox, _or_ he could crap all over his undercover work to take down the snake owning lunatic with the gun.

He chose the second one. Albeit reluctantly.

"Police. Now drop it."

He spun towards the doorway and then pulled free his own piece from the waistband of his jeans, because when did anything ever go to plan for them?

In response Jake Roberts blinked like he had seen a ghost which was mirrored from behind by Natalya and Tyson, who had clearly never _considered_ the cat owner with the buzz cut was nothing but a no hoper who was down on his luck.

"Police?" Roberts spluttered the word out in horror then stumbled over his own feet as he hurriedly backed up and at which point he fell over and accidentally fired, which made _eighteen_ things happen at once.

BANG.

" _Babe you good_?" Roman shouted down the earpiece, which was the first thing that happened, " _Uce, are you there_?"

But the second thing that happened was that the bullet carved through the lampshade, which came crashing down and almost squashed Hope, although thankfully at the last second she hissed and leapt away from it, bolting back out into the horrified waiting room, where things number three through to seventeen then took place.

Crap.

"Oh _hell_ no man. It's a cat — ,"

On seeing Hope coming like a tabby colored cannonball, Cornrow dude launched up onto his chair, which released Little Jimmy to then go barrelling after her. Sort of.

" _Yeowl_."

Hope puffed herself up and then lashed out her claws with such a sense of danger that the bulldog lost his nerve and ground to a halt, although not before skating across the pet friendly lino and crashing into a woman with a boxful of birds, which took to the sky like a crate of wedding butterflies and then began flapping and screeching around, as one by one animals escaped from their baskets and proceeded to cause havoc like a scene from a film.

" _Babe_?"

" _Dean. Say something damn it_."

Except then thing _eighteen_ happened within the mess, as Natalya and Kidd launched around the desktop and made a break for it with Natalya shouting,

"Grab the cat — ,"

Huh?

"Hold it right there," Dean barked spinning around again and trying to level his handgun their way. Tyson Kidd kicked the freaking swivel chair at him, which knocked him backwards into god damn Jake the Snake, so that the pair ended up in a tangle of body parts as in the distance Natalya swept his cat up.

"No. _Hope_."

" _Dean. Oh thank god_ man," Seth sighed at him, " _Easy, the big guy is on his way to back you up and the receptionist has already put in a nine one one call, so the cops should be_ — ,"

"Seth, they fuckin' took Hope."

" _What_?"

Pushing Roberts off him and launching to his feet again Dean burst out into the chaos of the waiting room, which looked like a scene from Noah's Ark or something. Not that he cared. He blasted through an employee door and then found himself stood in the middle of a corridor, with no sign of Natalya, or Kidd, _or_ Hope.

"Seth, I need you to get on the tracker an' tell me which way to go here."

" _Hold on a second_."

"Dude— ,"

" _Damn it Dean. I said hold on a secon_ d."

Fuck.

He reluctantly stopped with his heart in his throat as somewhere in the background Seth loaded up the tracker and then waited a beat for the beacon to show. Dean nearly barked again in frustration only the tech man cut him off,

" _Okay keep going man, there's a door at the end of the corridor. Take it, then go down the internal stairs_."

Dean nodded,

"Okay."

" _It looks like they're still in the basement. Hey, be careful_."

Uh. Hello? When was he freaking _not_? Pelting along the corridor in a knees up arms bent run like the kind that Tom Cruise used when he was chasing bad dudes down, he piled through the door and — yep — into a stairwell, only not like the nice looking one he had come up. Instead it was a plain metal concrete wall kind of one which he traipsed down rapidly trying not to fall — because how in the hell would he have ever have saved Hope cat — then arriving at the bottom before a whole _bunch_ of doors.

"Uh, okay, so which way now man?"

Seth paused to check,

" _First door around the corner. Tracker says she's in there and be care_ — ,"

"I know."

Pounding over the concrete he skidded around the corridor and then stopped by the door to take a deep breath before aiming his gun and kicking the hinges, which sounded like an explosion in the basement confines.

BOOM.

He burst through the frame into a narrow room of cages, housed beneath a bright blue halogen light and from where a selection of dogs and cats and ferrets and even freaking _micro pigs_ were staring back and —

Holy crap. Was that a freaking _monkey_?

Natalya was stood behind a table holding Hope in her arms, while Kidd was transferring bundles of money into what was quite clearly their get out of Dodge bag. Both of them stopped as he banged the door open and then pointed his firearm,

"Hey, our my girl down, ya no good scum suckin' pet grabbin' low lives. Nice an' easy now, no screwin' up her fur."

"Meow."

For a second no one moved but then Kidd's eyes flickered away from him and to a point over Dean's shoulder. There was someone else there.

"Shit — ,"

Dean spun around, but a fraction too slow to stop big meaty hands from grabbing him and then bodily throwing him across the narrow room. He hit the table stomach first and then upset a stand of scalpels and drill bits and other sort of pet maiming things and was still spread eagled when his assailant grabbing his gun hand and then started hammering it on the edge of the tray. Seth crackled over the earpiece,

" _You okay man_?"

Nope.

His firearm promptly skittered off and he was then picked up backwards right underneath his armpits and thrown into the wall pretty much head freaking first. He landed hard with a grunt,

"Not really — ,"

" _Damn it is there a third guy in there_?" Seth barked, flipping frantically through the case file in the background as the big hands slammed Dean hard back against the wall, " _Okay man, his name is David Hart Smith. He's Natalya's cousin. Big guy has a rap sheet, but don't worry okay, because Roman's on his way. So you just keep Hart busy until he gets to you. Do think you can do that_?"

Uh —

Hart punched his gut and Dean bent over double and exhaled with a grumble, not to mention a wince and a sarcastic hiss, which Seth didn't seem to pick up on remotely,

"No freakin' problem."

" _Okay man._ _Great_."

He hadn't been kidding about Hart being a big guy. He was huge and — okay —not muscly like _Roman_ was, but he was certainly ripped and six five or taller and — oh yeah — he threw one _hell_ of a punch.

Having finished loading up the duffel bag with money Kidd shouldered it and then shouted as he grabbed Natalya's hand, with Hope was still sitting in her arms like a statue, which hurt his freaking heart because why wasn't she lashing out? Or doing her best to get back to him in some way?

Hope?

"Davy finish him, we'll go and start up the car."

"Sure thing TJ."

BAM.

Dean blew a lungful of air out with a wheeze as the fist once again blasted into his ribcage, followed by a dog leash being wrapped around his throat and — okay so maybe things were going down the shitter.

Seth barked at him,

" _Dean_?"

But he couldn't respond. He couldn't do anything except scrabble at the leash folds as Natalya skittered by him.

He locked eyes with Hope and in response her eyelid flickered for a second like she was winking. Or maybe that was the lack of air? Except no, it wasn't, because as Dean gasped back at her she freaking _launched herself_ at Davy's face like some sort of sugar glider or a mud mask, only a furiously hissing clawing _biting_ kind of one.

He freaked out at once,

"ARGH."

"Stand still man," Kidd barked at him putting his hands out to try and drag her off. Uh, bad move dude. Hope Kitty saw him coming and turned her assault around as Hart fell back on his ass, with rivulets of blood streaming down his shredded features.

Ha.

"Get her off me — ,"

Kidd was screaming up a damn storm, but Hope wasn't done with her sudden reign of terror and so as Natalya reached towards her she turned and bit her finger.

"Ow. You little _bitch_."

" _Pfft_."

Dean blinked like a proud papa. His beloved cat was a one pet wrecking crew, scrabbling at Kidd's face like a scene from a cartoon where the action is covered up by a cloud of whirring dust but with the occasional fist or claw sometimes sticking out of it. Kidd reached up and threw Hope off and she sailed across the room and skidded on the concrete but landed on her feet and then turned round to come again. Kidd swiped up the tray which had held the utensils and then held it like a batter heading up to the plate but with Hope as the ball —

Shit.

Dean launched for his gun again in a baseball slide on his stomach across the floor, then grabbed it up and shot a second before impact.

BANG.

He watched as blood sprayed from Kidd's knee and listened as the man let out a scream of pure agony and then toppled sideways, claw marked and clutching hold of his shattered cap. Natalya screeched across the lockup,

" _No_. _TJ_. You god damn _bastard_."

Huh?

Natalya seized a scalpel up and was crossing the ground towards him with a bitten off finger when a brand new figure slid in between them both, with his gun held up and his brother senses tingling,

"Drop it. Drop it now," Roman rumbled sounding pissed and okay so maybe a little bit puzzled, since the scene was unusual even for them, on account of the three cat shredded looking criminals and the animals and — oh right — the _monkey_ of course. Because in all of the chaos Dean had forgotten the monkey, "Uce, are you okay?"

"Uh huh," Dean nodded, clambering shakily to his feet and then scooping his cat up.

Hope was practically _vibrating_ with fury, but she melted as he hugged her then rubbed her head under his chin, purring like a steam train as Roman cuffed David and then called for backup over the intercom at Seth.

Tyson Kidd didn't need any handcuffs, since he was unlikely to go anywhere with his kneecap blown out. Not that Dean felt bad about that though.

Nope.

Roman blinked at him,

"Hey. You sure you're okay?"

Dean grinned,

"Roman, you shoulda fuckin' seen her. My girl here was like, all freakin' claws an' teeth an' crap. She took 'em all out on her own. It was cool man."

"Figure she was saving her Ambrose," he grunted back, reaching across to tickle her ear tufts, which Hope let happen because she had loved the big man. Although obviously she loved her quirky owner a whole lot more though and so went right back to nuzzling him as the copper blonde smiled.

"Yep."

"That stupid cat," Natalya hissed bitterly, although as Hope showed her teeth the evil blonde skittered back.

Dean grinned proudly then tickled her harder as he looked up to the sky. Or okay, so _not_ the sky. Make that he looked up towards the shining blue halogen, but which didn't really matter since he was looking up at _her_. His much loved fiancé who would know it in a heartbeat, since she was the one who had convinced him to get Hope and had obviously sent the spunky feline to look after him. Because like — _fuck_ — of _course_ she had. His girl would _always_ have his back. As a regular beat cop stumbled into the room behind them, Roman flipped his badge out and then held it up and Dean looked up with a wink at his fiancé.

"Hey, thanks Beautiful."

"Meow."

Hope concurred.

* * *

 **Couldn't resist having Hope and Dean as buddy cops in this one...well, sort of anyway! Did I mention I love Hope? And here I am as a natural dog owner. But yeah, Hope rocks! Also, I know we all love Nattie, but she started off as a heel and I needed one here, so sorry girl, but you're up!**

 **Next week (which is the last of these for a little while as I focus on Dean and Lauren and other things) the boys head to Florida to watch Roman's kid in a play and everyone has a lovely time...right? Yeah, you know me by now. Maybe not!**


	45. Snow Frite

**Okay, last one of these for a while as I focus on other Dean stories. But, as ever, they will be back. In the meantime though, thank you to everyone who has followed this latest batch of mad Monday adventures. I appreciate every one of you!**

 **Cheryl24, Oh Seth is a cat person, just not Hope! Although at some point in the future they will find their groove. Just...not yet!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you!**

 **Mandy, Aww, sorry about your job rejection. Just keep plugging away at it and when you eventually get that job, all of the hardship that went into finding it will seem worth it. I totally believe in you. Yep, this week is the last one of these for a while, but hopefully I'm leaving it on a good note?!**

 **Rebel8954, Haha, you're welcome. Dean needling at Roman and Seth when they can't do anything to stop him is one of the main beauties of having Dean as the undercover man! Also, I love Hope too. No one messes with her owner!**

 **Derick Lindsey, Yep, Hope kitty to the rescue! As for the monkey, I just see Dean as someone who would be inordinately delighted by seeing a monkey in any place or capacity! Heads up, another pun coming at you for the title this week!**

 **Minnie1015, Yep, Hope is Dean's girl's tiny heavensent bodyguard for Dean, because, well, we all know he does tend to find trouble. I know, I know, these oneshots are ending (for now) but think about it this way...gives me more time to come up with great ideas?!**

 **Skovko, Well, I'm glad I could please my favourite cat loving reader! Although Hope is not so much a cat as a sort of tiny murderer in a cat's body! Also, I couldn't resist Little Jimmy's cameo. You can never have too much R Truth!**

 **Bookworm027, Aww, glad you liked it. I love putting R Truth in my stories (this is his third appearance in my Shield works!) Dean does love trying to rile Seth and Roman (or, okay, mostly Seth). Guess he's lucky his brothers love him!**

 **Wrestlingfanforever, Maybe. That's the beauty with me not really killing the baddies in these stories (a la The A Team) there's always the opportunity to bring them back.**

 **Daisysakura, Yay! You're all caught up! And just in time for the final one of these for a little while, but hopefully I'm leaving you on a good one (eh, I like it anyway!) I always love doing stories about Dean's extended family. Plus, I felt like it was time to give Roman a little love too!**

 **Here we go then...**

* * *

 **The Shield Unscripted: Snow Frite**

Roman was stood outside the low brick wall of the elementary school with his head tipped back and his arms across his chest, as the hot midday sun of Western Florida beat down over him and bounced off his shades.

He checked his watch.

Damn.

It was officially only eight minutes and fifteen seconds until show time and so boy oh _boy_ were they cutting it fine. Not that Roman really doubted his brothers for a beat though. Dean and Seth were going to be there, which he knew because Seth had text to let him know they had left the airport _and_ because they would _never_ have been late. Not for him and certainly not for his daughter, who was starring in her very first real school play.

Naturally of course she had wanted her papa there and so Roman had specifically taken the week off, to head back down to Florida and be there to support her, only _then_ it had turned out that she wanted her uncles there too, which for a horrible moment had looked nearly impossible until finally - _finally_ \- Stephanie had caved and meaning there he was, not fifteen hours later, stood out in the sunshine waiting for them.

He blinked as a cab pulled up and then smiled.

Bingo.

There they were.

Dean flung open the door and then clambered from the backseat with a groan of discomfort before pulling loose his bag and then carrying right on with whatever bickering session they'd been having as Seth paid the driver over on the far side. God damn it he had missed them,

"Look dude, all I'm sayin' is how do we know this kid is in the clear? I mean have we looked at his criminal history, or his license plate?"

Seth rolled his eyes,

"He's eight years old man. He doesn't _have_ a licence plate for me to check up on."

Dean shrugged,

"Fine, so check his _parents_ out then. Because _one_ of us needs to make sure this kid is who he says he is and isn't a jerk or an axe killer or some crap, since he's gonna be up on stage bein' all freakin' romantic with our favorite kid."

"For the last time it's Snow White. It's not like they're trying to remake Basic Instinct."

Dean gaped,

"Eww, what is _wrong_ with you man? Why would you even go and _mention_ something like that?"

Helpfully he then started to dry retch beside the cab, which made an elderly couple - who Roman figured were probably the grandparents of a dwarf or perhaps a woodcutter - stop briefly and turn as they tried to figure out why a six foot four giant with a copper blonde buzz cut was stood outside a school and so fighting a smile down Roman stepped in towards them and then held out his arms.

"Nice of you boys to show up. For a minute there I thought you were going to ditch me and hit up Disneyland instead."

Dean grinned at him,

"Hey uce."

"Damn, did we miss it?" Seth barked back looking worried as he gave their driver a _keep the change_ wave and then rounded the trunk pulling a tiny wheeled suitcase. Dean on the other hand had a mountaineering bag with straps and probably only enough room for fresh underwear and _maybe_ his toothbrush.

Roman shook his head,

"Nah, you're still both good on that one. I just thought I'd come and meet you."

"Because your ex wife is here?"

Ouch.

Dean asked the question with a blink of curiosity and without any hint of malice at all, but even so it still made the big man cough a little, because his ex wife _was_ there which was never an easy thing, even though they were friendly enough with one another and had put time and effort into getting the whole coparenting thing.

But Dean and Seth hadn't seen her in forever. Seth not since before he'd been banged up and Dean not since Roman had up and moved to Florida without bothering to tell him.

Roman winced,

"Uh, something like that. But _mostly_ so I can show your crazy ass into the theatre without you finding trouble," he checked his watch six minutes, "Oops. Better move."

Plodding from the golden rays of unrelenting sunshine, which along with his kids were the Floridian thing he missed most, Roman led his two teammates in off the sidewalk and then through the pintsized corridors of Summerslam Elementary School, which were kitted out with tiny little red and grey lockers and badly drawn pictures hung up on the walls. It was a nice place though and his daughter was very happy there and flourishing too, which was the most important thing and now that his brothers were also there with him, it meant everyone he cared about was under one roof. The theatre was packed and they kind of had to _squeeze_ in, but Roman's ex wife had saved a row near the back, so she could bail out with their rambunctious twins if needed and which was where she was sat as they arrived beside her.

"Oh."

She blinked for a second at the awkward three man posse and in response _they_ stood and didn't really much move. Or at least not until Seth chose to bite the bullet and put out a hand,

Thank god.

"Long time no see huh? Uh, I hope this isn't too weird for you or anything?"

She shook her head,

 _Liar_.

"No - uh - not at all. I'm just glad you could make it on such short notice, because honestly she's going to be so glad that you're here. Uh, _both_ of you that is,"

Her eyes crept to where Dean was. He was stood a step behind them with his head hanging down and scratching hard at his neckline which he did when he was anxious. Roman batted it down again.

"Hey."

Not that he could blame him all that much, because she and Dean had been pretty darn close once. Or, at least, Dean had _thought_ they were, right until the bombshell that she had wanted to leave Suplex to distance he and Roman up and to get her husband back.

He shrugged at her super awkwardly then nodded,

"Hey, how ya been?"

Okay. Good that was good and okay, so not the most _effusive_ opening ever, but if nothing else then at least it was a promising start. Roman's ex wife shot a hesitant smile back.

"I was sorry to hear about - ," she tapered off, although instantly both Roman and Seth seized up around her and then glanced back at Dean because they knew the sentence hurt and probably always _would_ for all the good intentions that people had when they said it. Dean nodded,

"Yeah thanks, me too."

His ex wife blinked but then was thankfully interrupted by one of Roman's sons who had been sitting on her lap, but then reached up towards him with a sticky little baby hand. Dean scooped him up and then jiggled him about a bit to deflect some of the tension,

"Hey little man, how you been kid?"

"Goo."

Behind them on the stage a teacher popped through the curtain and at once the hushed chatter of parental voices died down as she flapped her hands for a little bit of silence and then beamed at them all.

"Good afternoon everyone. If you could please take your seats we're ready to begin now and let me tell you the children have been working very hard and are excited to show you what we've been doing all those evenings when you dropped them off for rehearsals wearing hats and fairy wings," there was an appreciative laugh from the gathering of parents, which Dean didn't get. Not that he had much of a chance as Seth poked him hard in the ribs to get him seated and as the three of them shuffled down the row into their seats, "So without further ado I proudly present to you Summerslam Elementary's Snow White and the Seven Elves."

Elves?

Dean frowned but suddenly the lights dimmed and the curtains flung open to reveal - yep - seven elves, complete with green hats and pointy ears and curly toed shoes. One waved to his mom and dad and everybody chuckled, including Roman who was evidently _filming_ the whole thing.

"Goo."

Dean agreed with Roman's baby son's assessment, but then sat up as a pintsized little Snow White shuffled on, wearing a tiny blue and yellow Disney outfit and biting on her lip as she looked at the crowd. Holding up the camera Roman gave her a thumbs up, then grinned as he realized that Dean and Seth were doing the same and on seeing them his kid shot a gap toothed little grin at them and launched nervously but audibly into her lines.

Well okay, so with a little bit help from a teacher who was stood in the wings,

"I'm - ,"

"I'm Snow White," she stumbled, tangling her hands in her hem, which Romans ex wife signalled for her silently not to and which fortunately worked, "I want to marry a prince someday, 'cept I don't know where I'm going to find one."

She turned her hands over and gave a cute shrugging motion, which drew some appreciative laughter from crowd. Behind her on the stage was a host of bits of cardboard which had been painted in clumsy daubs to look like some sort of garden wall and out from behind which suddenly popped a new character, clad in a leather jacket and with his hair slicked back.

Dean blinked,

Since when had the Fonz been in Snow White for Christ sakes? Reaching out he swiped up the program from Seth and then scanned the cast list complete with smiling photographs until he found him.

 _Aha_.

Benjamin playing The Super Cool Prince.

Huh?

"Oh come on. _That_ guy?" Dean hissed slightly too loudly as The Super Cool Prince performed a hip-thrust-crotch-grab that in no way seemed appropriate for a third grade production or from anyone not already born when the King of Pop had died.

Four rows in front of them a couple turned resentfully, which meant that - yep - he had found Ben's mom and dad, who clearly had _no_ problem with the questionable dance moves. Seth hissed at him,

" _Dean_."

"Little weirdo," he grumbled back, which made Roman chuckle in brotherly amusement until his ex wife shot him a hint of warning side eye and whereupon he hastily cleared his throat to bite it back again then zoomed the camera lens in even closer on his girl.

His beautiful baby girl.

"I'm the prince," Crotch Kid barked out, before busting loose a genuinely impressive looking moonwalk, which made his own child giggle and cover her mouth.

A teacher hustled on to try and get him to stop it, as in the background a distant blare of police sirens drew in close, which Roman assumed was a surround sound kind of setup and besides the leading man was wearing leathers after all and so perhaps they were going for a modern type setting, or had let the kids run free in the planning phase of things? Either way, he was enjoying the show though, but -

Hmm.

Those sirens were sure getting loud. He glanced along the row at Dean and Seth who were frowning back at him, clearly thinking pretty much the same thing. Although on the _plus_ side his sons sure liked it,

"Nee naw, nee naw nee naw - ,"

"Goo."

Kids on the stage were beginning to look round too and some of the parents and even the _teachers_ as well.

Damn.

Roman snapped shut the video camera and then turned towards his brothers, but he moved a beat too late, because suddenly the auditorium doors burst wide behind them and a breathless and desperate looking figure stumbled through. He had straggly black hair pinned behind a bandana and a thin goatee and a fast peppering moustache. He was trembling violently and his eyes were red and itchy, not to mention that the man was sweating up a storm, all of which meant that he was going through withdrawal and was rattling hard for drugs. He pulled free a knife and then reached out and grabbed the PTA mom by the doorway who had seemingly been placed in charge of handing show programs out and who was clad in a sweater with a white kitten on it and who probably baked a lot and drove a beat up minivan.

She screamed and the rest of the room screamed with her. Well, all except for Crotch Kid who was still throwing shapes,

" _Shamone_."

Flipping the woman round and then pulling her against him, the newcomer pressed the blade close to her skin and in response Seth, Dean and Roman sprang onto their feet again, with the big man stepping right out into the aisle, in the hopes of putting himself in between the addict and the stage where his daughter and her helpless friends were.

He kept his hands up,

"Hey, easy now brother. Just take it easy. How about we talk this through?"

God damn it he wished he had brought his gun with him. In fact, he wished that _any_ of them had. But then why in the world _would_ they when they were technically on a work break and seeing a play in an _elementary school_?

Looking back over his shoulder for a second he found his daughter frozen in terror on the stage, with her big brown eyes blinking fretfully back at him before one of the teachers came and hustled her away, shepherding the kids into a bundle behind her in the hopes of keeping them together and safe.

Good.

"S-stay back," the addict barked, "I mean it. I won't go back there. I can't go back — I'll kill her man, I swear."

Roman grunted,

"Whoa, easy," they could still all hear the sirens and the noise made the addict twitch, which then made the mother in his arms whimper brokenly. Her eyes looked like they were about to pop out and so Roman took a breath and then did the only thing he _could_ do and the thing he had been taught to do, "Hey brother, take me instead. Let her go and use me to get out of here. I might be bigger, but I'm calmer as well, because the last thing we need is anybody getting hurt here because they're scared and not thinking."

"Roman," his ex wife hissed, looking unsurprisingly horrified and even reaching out to attempt to pull him backwards. Seth eased it down again,

"Hey, trust him."

Yep.

Roman nodded and she reluctantly moved backwards, whereupon Dean hastily palmed off her _other_ son and pinned her in place beneath both of her children, although luckily neither one of them knew what was going on.

In response the drug addict narrowed suspicious looking brows in and then rubbed a lonely bead of sweat off his head, swiping at it roughly with the shoulder of his t-shirt before nodding,

"O-okay man, but don't try anything."

"Nope."

Roman held his hands up higher in agreement and then took a chance and took a step towards the man, with his eyes glued tight to the PTA mother as he willed her to go with it and to stay nice and calm. Behind him he could feel both Seth and Dean tensing, but he carried on moving to within grabbing range, whereupon the paranoid and wild eyed junkie shoved aside his first hostage and dragged him back instead. A gasp went up all around the auditorium, followed by the sound of a high pitched little voice and then the trample of panicky footsteps as someone broke free of the children up on stage,

"Papa no — ,"

Roman's heart flipped clean over as his daughter charged towards him, although seeing her flight, Seth launched into the aisle and scooped her up one handed under his elbow and then held her there.

 _Thank god._

Roman shut his eyes and then opened them back up again to find Dean stood in front of them holding his hands up and looking as stern faced as Roman had ever seen him, while Seth handed his daughter safely back to her mom.

Dean grunted,

"Okay man, so now we got _that_ part done, what comes next here?"

The twitchy addict blinked,

"Huh?"

Dean rolled his eyes,

Ugh.

"I _mean_ like, what's the plan dude? Because now you got a hostage you get to make demands an' shit."

In reply the addict blinked like he hadn't thought of that and Dean's eyes flickered to Roman's in a silent conversation of the kind the three of them frequently used and which their tech man also picked up on in the background with a hidden little nod.

"I — I want a car," their armed assailant offered out suddenly, "And — and a million dollar in unmarked notes."

Christ.

Clearly the guy had seen one too many bad heist films, or else a string of cop dramas from the nineteen seventies and so figured that people actually asked for cash bundles. Dean bit back a snort of derision at that and then nodded like he thought the nervy addict was a genius.

"Sure thing man. I got it. A car. And who shall I tell 'em it's for?"

"None of your business."

Roman winced as the knife tremored against his skin, to the point that he figured it was safer not breathing rather than risk getting his Adam's apple sliced off. Dean put his hands up in a chill _calm down_ gesture and the addict eased slightly but still kept the knife close. Not that the damn police sirens were helping, _or_ the screech of tires as the patrol cars pulled up. Dean clicked his fingers to draw back the attention.

 _Snap_.

"Over here man. Stay with me okay? Now look, I'm not trying to pull anything fast here, I'm just asking because otherwise this is gonna turn into a mess if I have to keep freakin' clickin' my fingers at ya, so if you want this to go faster, I'm gonna need a name."

"Sean."

Dean nodded at him,

"Sean, okay, now we're starting to get somewhere. Can you feel that, huh? So now, what kind of car do you want? I mean, are we talkin' about some kinda stick shift, or — ,"

"Damn it stop playing and get me my car," Sean shouted loudly right into Roman's ear drum as his temper and his internal thermostat burst. The big man could _feel_ the sweat soaking through the shirt front and in through the back of the suit jacket he had shrugged on, because he had wanted to make a good impression for his daughter in front of her teachers and more importantly his ex wife.

He winced and Dean automatically threw his hands out, with his chirpy tones once more making the jittery junkie stop. Roman's daughter was blinking out from behind her mama and his heart broke for her.

Dean grumbled,

"Easy man. Look all I'm sayin' is what car do you want here? Because there's no point in 'em bringin' some shit you can't drive."

"Oh," Sean blinked and then clearly considered things briefly, "No — no stick shifts."

Dean nodded,

"Okay fine," tentatively he took a half a step towards the doorway and just as they had hoped Sean edged himself around, dragging Roman with him as he eyeballed the copper blonde man who was moving more carefully than he probably _ever_ had and fighting the urge to scratch hard at his neck line or punch Sean in the face Roman figured. He figured right, "Fine man. Fine. So now what I'm gonna do here is go outside an' tell that to the cops, okay dude? See if we can't get things _expediated_ here or somethin'."

He sidestepped again and Sean slung about with him, shuffling his beefy hostage further round towards the doors, to the point where their backs were fully facing the auditorium and the crowd —

And Seth.

"I — I want something fast. Like maybe a Ferrari."

Dean snorted.

"Hey, no problem. I'll go out there right now an' make 'em rustle one up. Oh, an' hold on now — ," he paused like he was thinking about something, "Was it one million dollars you wanted or — ,"

"No — no make it _two_. I want two million dollars in cash okay man?"

Dean shrugged,

"Hey, you're the boss," he stepped back and then moved like he was going to step through the doorway to head off to make the idiot's list of demands and in response Sean kept his eyes on him like a meerkat —

But then wasn't prepared for the racket from behind, as Seth kicked over a chair clean in the background, which screeched like a banshee across the polished hardwood floor. Or else screeched like _Steph_ because it sounded kind of like her. Sean's heart leapt nearly out of his ribcage, which Roman felt bodily as he was slung around for a second time, but the clumsiness of which moved the knife hand _just_ a fraction and —

 _Yes_.

Roman threw a hand up and pushed the blade back as Seth charged in from behind to try and help him. Not that Sean was going easy and _crap_ he was strong.

"Let it go asshole," Seth barked sharply and evidently forgetting the third graders in the hall. As evidently did their fractious middle brother.

"Fuck — ,"

Dean ploughed right into the brawl and then joined the attempt to get the blade into safe hands again, which was a whole lot easier said than done, since Sean had literally everything to fight for and was still pretty clearly under the influence of drugs. From over the top of the addict's sweaty bicep, Roman could see a father filming it all and made a mental note to smash the camera up later to save them from going viral and blowing their secret taskforce deal and _also_ to help teach the damn man a lesson.

Asshat.

"Now man, _go_ ," Seth and Dean forced down the hand and the second the knife was back out of throat slashing range, Roman turned and delivered a ferocious right hook, which practically knocked Sean right out of his work boots as Dean kicked his legs out and then took him to the floor.

"Stay down ya freakin' scumbag. What the fuck's wrong with you? Burstin' in here right in the middle of a play. Haven't you ever heard of a freakin' intermission?"

Seth barked,

"Hey, we need something to tie his hands. Like cuffs or some rope or a belt here or something."

In response the young teacher in charge of the stage props dove headfirst into a box of random stuff and then popped back up holding a pink crimp edged ribbon covered in glitter, but on the plus side could be knotted and so would have to make do. She blitzed past a man slowly responding to the belt call — who was pulling his free and trying not to loose his pants — and handed it across to the loudly barking tech man who then bound the hands tightly as Dean pinned Sean to the ground.

" _Whoo_ , go boys."

Huh?

Back in the crowd somewhere behind them a father cheered loudly like they had scored a touchdown to win the game, which was followed by the gaping crowd starting to applaud them.

Not that Roman heard any of that part of it though, since he only heard _one_ tiny little thing clearly,

"Papa — ,"

"Hey whoa — ," he turned the second she hit the air, in a breathless and wide eyed pole vault from the floor having ripped from her mother and charged across the distance with her little face creased in determination and fear. He caught her easily and then pulled her against him as she buried into his shoulder and wound her arms around him _vibrating_ with emotion. He patted her back gently, "Easy, easy baby girl. I'm fine okay, baby girl? I'm fine, I promise."

She sniffled,

"But — but the nasty man had you and — ," she paused to hiccup and scrub her eyes and in response Roman leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, because his kid was the reason he had put himself in harm's way and so having her there and safe in his arms again was everything he needed.

"I know I'm sorry."

"Uce, you okay?" Dean trampled over looking wide eyed and breathless, but for the most part kind of _pissed_.

"No thanks to you babe," Roman grunted back with a grin of pure fondness, as behind them Seth dragged Sean up onto his feet and then marched the bewildered looking addict through the doors again, muttering the whole way.

"Come on you idiot and believe me you'd better count yourself lucky that the big guy only hit your damn ass once."

Roman nodded at that part.

Yep.

"Fuck — I mean _fudge_ ," Dean gabbled super clumsily, before briefly scratching his neck at the curse, although thankfully Romans daughter had her head on her father's shoulder was playing with his man bun and so had hopefully missed the word, "That was close uce. I mean, that guy came outta _nowhere_ an' like kicked the doors open an' then grabbed that woman an' freakin' — ,"

"Ahem."

Huh? Both of them looked round and then into the relieved looking face of Roman's ex wife, who had come over to join them. Dean scratched at his neck and then gestured loosely with a thumb over his shoulder,

"So I'm guessin' you two want like, a moment alone?"

Roman winced,

Damn.

His former spouse was probably furious and waiting to tear a strip clean off his hide and knowing it and not wanting his daughter to hear it — or Dean for that matter — he eased Snow White back down and then swept her hair back as she clung to him and whimpered, clearly not prepared to let him get out of her sight, in case some _other_ villain burst in and tried to hurt him.

"Baby girl I need to have a talk with your mom, so how about you take Uncle Ambrose to meet your friends, huh?"

Dean nodded,

"Uh, yeah come on kid, spill the beans because I wanna know like, _all_ there is to know about 'em," he put out his hand and the little girl sniffled, but obediently slid her pintsized fingers into his, "But — uh — how 'bout we skip the crazy kid with all the dance moves?"

Roman watched them head off with a grin, then turned back to face his ex wife with a grimace and the start of an apology,

"Look — ,"

"Roman, don't ever do that again," she hiccuped as surged across the space and then wrapped him up in a genuine hug. Her heart was beating like a metronome against him and she bit down a sob, which caught him totally by surprise, although instantly his big arms folded around her,

"Easy, take it easy now, I'm — ,"

She hit him,

"God you _asshole._ I mean what were you even _thinking_?"

"I was distracting him," Roman offered, putting his hands up in case she decided to hit him a second him and then catching her hands loosely to make her look up at him, "I was trying to protect you."

She hiccupped,

"I know. But what if something had gone wrong?"

"It wouldn't have."

"But how do you _know_ that Roman?"

He shrugged,

"Because of them."

Raising a big hand he gestured up towards the staging, where Dean had been installed on the Wicked Queen's throne and had been draped in a collection of pink feather boas and tiaras and fairy wings by some giggling girls. Seth was there too having delivered their prisoner before unceremoniously being kidnapped for the game as well and was pouting as a small girl with big owlish spectacles clumsily painted rouge over his lips and possibly up into his eyes based on his squinting.

His ex wife blew out an exhausted sounding sigh and no wonder, since the day had already been long, in between getting three children up and ready and then almost watching their father get murdered right before her very eyes.

She blinked,

"Do — do you really trust them that much?"

"They're my brothers."

"Huh."

She made a little noise at that, but it wasn't a cross one. Or at least it didn't _sound_ like that. Back up on the stage there was a squeal of hysteria and they looked up to find Seth stomping around chasing the kids, while Dean fought him back with a sword made of cardboard.

"Papa," their daughter shouted, "You have to come and fight Uncle Seth, because he's a dragon who likes to eat children."

In response the lipstick covered technical expert snorted,

"Roar."

Roman grinned back,

"I'll be there in a second baby — ,""

"Roman, go."

"Huh?"

His ex wife gave him a push and he looked back around to find her smiling widely and not at him either but beyond him at Dean and Seth. Or possibly at their daughter or her classmates or _everything_.

"Go and save our child from the dragon," she grinned, before biting her lip and pausing for a second like there was maybe something more she needed to say, "Oh and I probably should have said this a lot sooner. But — but I think you made the right choice. I mean I can't say I really understood it all those months ago, but I think — no, I _know_ — I finally do now. Because being a cop makes you part of something bigger It means you're making the world a better place. You _and_ those two up there. You're making things better for our children and in spite of everything I'm — well, I'm proud of you for that."

He blinked at her,

Wow.

"I — thank you for saying that. It means a lot."

"Papa hurry — ," a small voice rang out and in response his ex wife snorted and then shooed him towards the staging, where Dean was evidently busy hamming up a death, since apparently even in make believe scenarios their undercover man needed his crazy ass saved. Roman took a step but then stopped and glanced backwards,

"Come here," reaching a hand out he pulled his ex wife to his chest and then kissed her on the head as she clung onto him briefly, before pulling back and smiling,

"Now go and save our daughter."

He nodded,

"Yes ma'am."

Perhaps unsurprisingly the auditorium all around them was buzzing with the latent effects of the hostage scene, including a whole group crowded around the first hostage, who was being force fed brownies that she had probably helped to make. All around him there were parents stood about in the aisleways, chattering and clucking about the state of the world and who the three men were and where they had come from. Roman passed the guy who had filmed the whole damn thing and was showing the playback to another blinking dad. Nope. Roman reached out and whipped out the memory stick before tucking it into the pocket of his suit and ignoring the baffled squeak of _hey_ that rang out at him.

Beaming like an idiot he climbed up onto the staging, feeling like the luckiest damn guy in the world, because he had his kids, his ex wife and his brothers and every single one of them was safe and happy and loved. Swiping up a sword made of card and aluminum, he blew out a breath and a satisfied grunt, before spinning around towards the kids and then smirking,

"I'm here baby girl, so now whose ass do I gotta whoop?"

* * *

 **I had to end on a happy note, right? Plus, who doesn't love when Roman is happy? Anyway, I hope you all liked it and again THANK YOU for reading and reviewing!**

 **Be back with more of these soon, but in the meantime please feel free to check out my other Dean stories if you haven't already…**

 **The Little Brother Series: starring Dean as a mistreated teenager being found and taken in by big brother Roman.**

 **The Lauren and Dean Series: My romance saga starring clumsy, trouble prone heroine Lauren.**

 **Squeaker: Starring Mox and his baby sister Katie**

 **Hard Time: Dean and Roman as inmates**

 **Assorted Stories: Growing Pains, The Importance of Always Wearing a Hat etc. etc.**

 **Hmmm, self promotion feels weird...but good! Anyway, see you all next time (I hope).**


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